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A PRISONER IN BUFF 


By the Same Author 

^ ^ ^ 

The Ward 
Hill Series ^ 


WARD HILL AT WESTON 

121110, 336 pages. Price, $1.25 

“The average boy will not want to lay it dow'n to do his 
‘ chores ’ until the last page is read .”— New York Press. 

WARD HILL THE SENIOR 

i2nio, 360 pages. Price, $1.25 

“It is so written as to hold the attention of boys clear 
through,”— 77ie Boston Globe. 

WARD HILL AT COLLEGE 

i2mo, 258 pages. Price, $1.25 

This book is the best of the series, to our thinking. 

All well Illustrated. No better books for boys in print. 
Sent postpaid on receipt of price. 


American Baptist Publication Society 

1420 Chestnut St., Philadelphia 



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In a moment his pursuer was upon him.” 


Page 21 


PRISONER IN BUFF 


BY^ 

EVERETT T. TOMLINSON 

It 

AUTHOR OF 


^'IVard Hill at IVestou” ^HVard Hill the Senior,'' 
and ^'IVard Hill at College ” 
t^llso of 

“ Tecumseh's Young Graves," IVashington' s Young Jlids^' 
“ The "Boys of Old tMonmouth '' etc. 








PHILADELPHIA 

Zhc (3rifntb S, IRowlanD iprese 


' 


48976 




X 






\ 


y of Cooorwss 
*Vv. C jfttj H|:a;«EO 

SEP 18 1900 

Copyngilf «try 

StCONP COPY. 

0»'i>v«N'«d to 

OhDtR DIVISION, 

SEP 24 1900 


Copyright 1900 by the 

American Baptist Publication Society 

80197 



JEIcctrotspcb anb ipdnlcb 
m tbc Society ^ ^ ^ 


PREFACE 


The leading events recorded in this story are true. For 
obvious reasons some of the names of the participants have 
been changed, but the outlines of the story for the most 
part are in accord with the facts. The strength of purpose,^ 
the willingness to do or suffer, the rugged adherence to con- 
victions, which marked our fathers’ grandfathers and grand- 
mothers are worthy of remembrance and honor in our own 
days. Truth is true and manliness is still as manly in our 
time as in those dark days of the Revolution. And we can 
well profit by the example. I trust my readers may be led 
to mark well the old paths, and though they may not be 
called upon to tread in them, still to remember the days of 
old and to learn the lessons for times of peace. 

It is not alone the war, but the lessons of the war ; not the 
contest, but the principles which moved the contestants, 
'which are needed in our own lives to make them true and 
strong to meet the problems which confront us ; for we 
have our own, as our forefathers had theirs. We may well 
profit by the lessons writ in blood or wrought in suffer- 
ing. True patriotism is a foremost virtue, but to give is 
even more noble than to get. If my young readers shall 
read between the lines and catch even a slight inspiration 
from this story the author will feel that his labor has not 
been in vain. 

Everett T. Tomlinson. 

Elizabeth, N. J., Jan., 1900. 

5 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

“ /n a moment his pursuer was upon him ” . Frontispiece 

•“ The stranger was only a hoy ” 31 

“ ‘ Oh, we ainH after your poultry this time ’ ” 62 

“ After a brief delay he was drawn to the surface ” , 70 

“ Quickly bringing the little cannon in range of the boat, 

Israel . . . fired Ill 

“ David saw a half-dozen men approaching ” 121 

“ The men were not satisfied that she was really gone ” . . 132 

“ ‘ Oh, I have, have 7/ ’ ” 170 

“ With another burst of speed he grasped the bridle'^ . . . 213 

“‘J have learned. Mistress Gray, that the Sallie” sails 

to-morrow ’ ” 228 

“ She turned and beheld a man in the doorway ” 245 

“ ‘ Tve found him ’ ” 257 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. After the Battle 9 

II. Companions in Misery 17 

III. Out of the Woods 25 

IV. Israel Schenck’s Wife 34 

V. An Interruption 42 

VI. The Search 50 

VII. The Departure 58 

VIII. The Return of Israel 66 

IX. The Story of the Retreat 74 

X. A Perplexing Problem 82 

XI. The Sail in the Night 90 

XII. The Flight 98 

XIII. In Close Quarters 106 

XIV. The Bar HI . 

XV. David Learns about “The Turtle” .... 122 

XVI. The Venture of Ezra Lee 130 

XVII. The Return 138 

XVIII. Connecting Links 146 


7 


8 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XIX. The Messenger 154 

XX. Samantha’s Decision 162 

XXI. The Landing of the Sloop 171 

XXII. The End of the Search 179 

XXIII. The Message 188 

XXIV. An Interview with John Hancock and 

What Came of It 196 

XXV. The Pursuit 205 

XXVI. To THE Hessian Lines 213 

XXVH. A Tory Welcome 222 

XXVHI. A Petition 231 

XXIX. Sir William 241 

XXX. In Prison 250 

XXXI. Conclusion ‘ . . . . 259 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


CHAPTER I 

AFTER THE BATTLE 

niHE warm August day had come to its close and many 
a hope had gone down with the sun. The deepening 
gloom hid from the sight of all the appearance of 
friend and foe ; and while the oncoming night prevented 
further efforts of the rugged Continentals, still the question 
of daylight or darkness mattered little, for the day was 
lost and the redcoats were victorious. 

For long hours the struggle had continued, and the brav- 
ery of the contending armies in the battle of Long Island 
had become a matter of history. It was the first time 
that the rude soldiers of the colonies had met the well- 
drilled and better-equipped forces of King George in open 
field, and the result had been awaited with deep anxiety 
by all the American leaders. Proud as they had .been of 
the sturdy stand which their countrj’men had made, it 
could not atone for the fact which was now apparent that 
the day was lost. 

For four terrible hours the hardy Stirling and his men 
had faced the brave Highland regiments ; but Lord Corn- 
wallis had already defeated the desperate men of Sullivan, 

9 


10 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


and soon with his troopers was in Stirling’s rear. The 
contest had then become one in which the Continentals 
were striving to force their way through the opposing ranks 
and join their comrades on Brooklyn Heights. Foot by 
foot the men pressed their way, the redcoats as eager to 
hold back the soldiers in buff and blue, as were the latter 
to find a way of escape. Stirling had been captured, and 
many of his followers were also soon prisoners, but others 
had succeeded in passing the lines and had rejoined their 
comrades in arms. Smallwood’s Maryland men had been 
among the number, and their desperate efforts had been 
alike an inspiration and an aid. 

But the skilled British leaders had outflanked the main 
army and, led by Howe himself, had taken the long night 
march from Jamaica, had easily captured the small patrol- 
ling force there, and soon were in the rear of their enemy, 
while the Hessian and other forces were before them. So, 
outgeneraled and outnumbered, the gallant though ill- 
trained forces of the newly born nation were hemmed in 
and overthrown. 

In confusion, between two galling fires, driven back and 
forth from the wooded heights, the contest had been waged ; 
but the end had come and the British were the victors. At 
the close of the day Howe brought up all his forces in 
front of the works on Brooklyn Heights, behind which 
those Americans who had managed to escape from the field 
were assembled. More than a thousand of their comrades 
were not with them, for they were within the British lines 
now and were prisoners of war. Upon the field where the 
battle had waged, something over eight hundred men lay 


AFTER THE BATTLE 


11 


stretched, gazing up at the stars which were now taking 
their place in the sky, but with never an answering light 
in their own eyes. 

Half of these lifeless forms were clad in a uniform of 
buff and blue, and were the first martyrs of the nation 
which had been born only a few weeks before this August 
day in 1776. As many more by their uniforms showed 
that they had been soldiers of the king or were followers 
of the petty German prince who, to pay his gambling 
debts, had sent them to the aid of the redcoats in their ef- 
forts to subdue the rebellious Colonies. What a strange spec- 
tacle they presented ! The long jack boots, the heavy fur 
hats, the short swords, the long, cruel-looking spurs, 
seemed sadly out of place. 

As the moonlight increased, it seemed to intensify the 
awful results of the struggle. Here and there was a face 
that seemed to smile, but it was a changeless smile and 
betokened only that life had fled. And these men, whose 
hands had been lifted against one another, had been al- 
most like brothers. Something of the same blood had 
been coursing in their veins, the same heritage had been 
claimed by all, and many of them had worshiped the same 
God and with much the same forms. Now the silent men 
would be forever silent, and never again would place coun- 
try against king or king against country. And the saddest 
part of it all was to learn, as we have since done, that all 
the time the hearts that beat in the breasts of the rank 
and file of each nation had never been apart, and that all 
the bloodshed and sorrow had been brought about by the 
foolishness, or something deserving a much worse name, of 


12 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


the leaders. Then and ever the two nations had at heart 
been as one. Sons of common sires, in whose names all 
felt and feel a common pride, with writers and poets and 
preachers to whom all alike may lay claim, may no ob- 
stinate, foolish, blind leaders ever arise to destroy the faith 
of one land in the other, or to set kindred at variance. 

But on that August day in 1776, when at last what was 
left of the American army had gained the shelter of the 
earthworks behind Brooklyn Heights and Howe with his 
scarlet-clad soldiers had doggedly taken their stand in 
front, there was no understanding in either army of the truth 
we have just written. It was only after the war was ended 
and peace had come, and indeed, after generations of men 
had passed away, that the true condition was learned. And 
all the sorrow and loss could not restore one of these men 
who had laid down his life from a noble impulse, but who 
was no less the victim of the incompetency of the men in 
authority. 

Among the men in buff and blue wdio had fallen amid 
the trees on the heights, where the followers of Stirling and 
Cornwallis had joined in the deadly fray, was one whose 
uniform betrayed the fact that he had been one of Haslet’s 
Delawares, as the men from the smallest of the Colonies w'ere 
then knowm. For a time he had lain as still as his silent 
comrades all about him. Men moved about among the 
dead, and once this soldier had been turned upon his face 
and two soldiers whose uniforms wAre of bright scarlet had 
paused for a moment in their search, as one said : 

“ Humph ! He’s only a boy. The rebels will be taking 
the infants from their mothers’ arms next.” 



AFTER THE BATTLE 


13 


“There’ll be no ‘next,’ ’’ replied his companion quietly. 
“After this fight they will every one lay down their arms. 
They’ve found out they can’t stand against the regulars.” 

“They managed to stand for about four hours down 
here,” said the first speaker gruffly. “Come on! We 
can’t stand here. We must go on with our search and help 
take off the wounded.” 

The men moved on and left the young soldier, of whom 
they had just been speaking, to what they thought was his 
last long sleep. The wind began to rise and lifted the light 
brown hair from the forehead of the prostrate young Con- 
tinental, and his youthfulness became more apparent. Still 
he did not stir, and with half-closed eyes appeared to be 
gazing up into the sky studded over with a multitude of 
stars and bright with the light of the coming moon. He 
w'as only a lad, as the redcoats had said. A little more 
than six months before this time he had been studying 
with a tutor in his Philadelphia home, hoping soon to enter 
Nassau Hall, as Princeton College was then called. But the 
reports of the struggles at Concord and Lexington, the 
battle of Bunker Hill, and the increasing bitterness in the 
hearts of the colonists had soon driven all thoughts of 
Latin and Greek from his mind. He too would enter the 
army of the Continental Congress. 

How well his widowed mother remembered the day wdien 
he had first broached the subject to her. How she had 
flung her arms about his neck and clung to him, though 
she uttered not a word. And, indeed, what was there for 
Mistress Gray to say ? Had she not been one of the stanch- 
est of the Whigs, and ever bold to declare that her coun- 


14 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


trymen were right and should resist, even to bloodshed, 
the demands of tyranny? Yes, it was all true ; but in her 
boldest moments she had never thought of the call coming 
home to her. Her Alexander go? Why, he was only a 
boy, not yet eighteen years of age. He was to go to Nas- 
sau Hall and she was to go with him, making for him a 
home and doing her best for her only child. It was true 
he was a well-grown and sturdy lad, taller by two inches 
already than his father had been before him, but somehow 
she had never thought that he was old enough to be called 
into the service. 

It all came home to her, however, when the eager-hearted 
lad had made his plea. But what could she say ? Could 
she, who had urged her neighbors to be true, refuse to give 
her own? What mattered it that she possessed more 
wealth than the most of her friends, or that Alexander 
would, as she fondly hoped, occupy a position by the very 
fact of his birth and inheritance, above that of most of his 
boyish friends? Were not all these added reasons why 
she should give him to the service of his country in the 
hour of that country’s greatest need? 

The struggle in her mind, terrible as it had been, was 
not long, and when she withdrew her arms from her boy, 
she had gazed for a moment into his face with a look he 
could never forget, and had then bidden him do what his 
heart demanded. 

A few weeks later young Alexander Gray had joined 
Haslet’s Delawares, to be near his mother’s youngest 
brother, and in his care he was to enter into the struggle. 

And was this to be the end of it all ? What would his 


AFTER THE BATTLE 


15 


mother have to say now if she could look down into the 
face of the tall young soldier as he lay silent and motion- 
less among the hills of Long Island? 

It may have been that question or some thought of the 
absent mother which moved the boyish form. At any rate 
he stirred slightly, then lay still, and a moment later opened 
his eyes. This time he saw the twinkling stars above him 
and gradually became aware of the moonlight wliich was 
shining over the field. He even moved again slightly, but 
just then he saw four men approaching, and once more 
closed his eyes and lay still. 

“We’ve got every man that has any life left in him,” 
said one. “ We’ll have to leave the dead till morning.” 

“And plenty of ’em to leave too,” replied his companion 
solemnly. 

The men moved on, and their voices could no longer be 
heard. Then the young soldier, who was fully conscious 
now, began to think. Slowly the events of the day began 
to return. He recalled the beginning of the battle, and 
had a confused sense of the wild scene which had followed. 
He even remembered seeing a man raise his gun ready to 
strike with its butt, but he could recall no more. Had he 
been the one whom the redcoat had struck? A pain in 
his head seemed to indicate something like that. He would 
see whether he was suffering from any other wound or not. 

Slowly he moved each leg and then each arm. Surely 
they were all right. The throbbing pain in his head was 
all that he could discover that was wrong. And doubtless 
he had been unconscious and left on the field among the 
dead, he thought. 


16 


A PRISOKER IN BUFE 


Well, he would show them he was not dead, and acting 
upon the impulse, he rose at once to his feet. For a mo- 
ment he stood there till the full sight of the field was seen. 
He felt weak and sick. Still he knew he must act, and 
exerting all his powers, he tried to discover the direction 
in which he ought to move. With all his efforts he could 
not decide, but aware that something must be done and at 
once, he dropped upon his hands and knees, and slowly and 
painfully began to creep over the moonlit field. 


CHAPTER II 


COMPANIONS IN MISERY 

T he progress of the young soldier was of necessity de- 
layed again and again. Bodies of men lay scattered 
over the field and impeded him. The pain in his 
head at times became so intense that he was compelled to 
abandon his efforts and lie still. The forms of soldiers 
could also be seen not far away, and in his heart there was 
the fear of being discovered, a fear which kept him alert 
and watchful in spite of his sufferings. 

The consciousness which had returned did not again 
desert him, and he was still watchful of the men whose 
voices could be heard as they searched for the living among 
the dead. He could even see them as they stopped and 
lifted some one upon a stretcher and bore him away from 
the field, while their comrades continued their efforts. 

Sometimes Alexander would crawl a few yards and then 
wait what seemed to him a long time until he was satisfied 
that he had not been seen. Then he would renew his pain- 
ful labors and creep stealthily forward, not knowing in what 
direction he was moving or just what the location of the 
place might be. 

At last he satisfied himself that he had gained the borders 
of the field, and that before him were the indistinct outlines 
of the woods. Even then he dared not rise, but crept over 
the ground, frequently pausing to glance behind him and 

B 17 


18 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


see whether any one was following him or not. Satisfied 
that as yet he had not been seen, he began to move more 
rapidly. Clouds had obscured the face of the moon, though 
the August night was not dark and he had no difficulty in 
seeing a short distance before him, and taking advantage 
of the gloom he even rose at times and ran eagerly forward. 

More than once he thought he was pursued, and with 
trembling heart stretched himself upon the ground to feign 
the death which the searchers had supposed had come to 
him ; but in every instance the men either passed without 
stopping or did not question an appearance which seemed 
so real. So many of the soldiers were sleeping their last 
long sleep that it hardly occurred to any, that buffcoat or 
redcoat could be only pretending. 

The battlefield was behind him now and Alexander was 
moving from tree to tree, still crouching low and fearful of 
discovery or pursuit. As he darted ahead once more, he 
found himself near the bank of a little stream. The waters 
w’ere moving somewhat swiftly in their course, and for a 
moment the young soldier paused and endeavored to col- 
lect his thoughts sufficiently to enable him to think where 
he was and what he would do next. 

To cross the stream was impossible. The water was 
plainly too deep for that and the current too strong. Sud- 
denly it occurred to him that doubtless the outlet must be 
in the waters of the ocean, or the sound. Perhaps the 
cause of the swiftness of the current was due to the tide. 

Reaching over the bank he thrust his hand into the 
stream and tasted the water. It was brackish and salt, and 
he knew at once that it must be connected with the sound 


COMPANIONS IN MISERY 


19 


or the ocean. If he should follow the bank he would surely 
come to the shore, and there some means of escape might 
be found. 

Acting immediately upon the impulse he started again 
along the bank, moving more swiftly than before. He had 
advanced but a few yards before he was startled, as he 
tliought he heard the sound of footsteps near him. Yes, he 
could not be mistaken, a fallen branch snapped as if some 
one had stepped upon it. 

His temples were throbbing with his pain and excite- 
ment now, and he hastily darted behind the shelter of a 
large tree, and in breathless suspense waited for the warn- 
ing sound to be repeated. For several minutes all he could 
hear was the murmuring in the treetops and the call of the 
night-birds. Still he waited until at last the suspense be- 
came unbearable. Peering carefully out from behind his 
hiding-place he tried to discover whether any one was near 
or not. 

A cry almost escaped his lips when he saw a man stand- 
ing only a few feet in front of the tree behind which he 
himself was hiding. It was evident that the man was 
listening intently, and the fear in Alexander’s heart in- 
creased as he thought that his own presence was known 
or suspected. His alarm was still greater when a moment 
later he could hear the stealthy footsteps of the man com- 
ing nearer. Slowly the young soldier began to circle the 
tree and could feel rather than hear the stranger as he also 
moved around. Stepping carefully, hardly daring to breathe 
in his excitement, he completed the circle, but still the 
man was on the opposite side. 


20 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


The lad was tempted to break into a run and try to dis- 
tance the other if he should pursue him, but the fear lest 
the other man should be armed held him back. His own 
gun had been lost, and in his efforts to escape from the 
battlefield he had not once thought of the weapon. How 
he wished he had it with him now, but he was unarmed 
and helpless. He could only await the movements of the 
other. Besides, the morning would soon be at hand, for 
already the shadows of the woods were beginning to be de- 
fined by the gray of the dawn. 

The man was not moving now and Alexander also waited. 
He was positive the other man was aware of his presence, 
but he could not understand why he delayed. If he was 
searching for prisoners, as doubtless he was, Avhy did he not 
call out to him and demand his surrender? 

Suddenly Alexander was startled as the man darted from 
the tree, and before he could act himself he knew he had 
been seen. But all caution was fiung away now, and in the 
one desperate hope of finding a place of shelter somewhere 
in the woods, the lad turned and began to run. He was 
exerting all his strength, but it was soon evident that the 
man was pursuing him. Still he had not spoken, and Alex- 
ander could not understand why he did not use his gun, if 
he had one. 

He had no time, however, to waste in conjectures. The 
man was pursuing him, and in the one hope of escape the 
lad ran desperately on. He dodged behind trees, he tried 
to turn on his tracks, and searched for some place of refuge, 
but all in vain. Fast as he was running, his pursuer was 
equally fleet, and it soon became evident that he was not 


COMPANIONS IN MISERY 


21 


to be turned aside. The young soldier resolved to make 
one more attempt to increase his speed, and bending lower 
as he summoned all his powers to his aid, he was about to 
change his direction once more, when his foot was caught 
by a fallen branch, and before he could recover himself he 
was thrown heavily forward upon his face. In a moment 
his pursuer was upon him, and Alexander felt the man’s 
hand upon his shoulder. 

For a brief time he did not move, and neither spoke ; 
then, unable to endure the suspense longer, the lad slowly 
turned his face and looked at his captor. He could hardly 
trust his own eyes, but the reaction quickly passed, and 
struggling to his feet Alexander threw himself into the 
arms of the man and said : 

“Oh, Uncle Dave, is it you? Is it really you? I can’t 
believe it.” 

“Yes, my boy, that’s who it is; but I didn’t expect to 
find you here.” 

“Nor I you. I can’t understand it yet. And you were 
the one who was chasing me all the time? Why didn’t 
you speak to me?” 

“I didn’t dare to. At first I was as much afraid of you 
as you were of me, but I soon concluded from your actions 
that you couldn’t be one of the redcoats. And then I 
made up my mind that you must be one of our own men 
trying to get away, as I was. But I had to find out, you 
see, because I couldn’t stand there feeling that some one 
had found me ; and then I knew if you were a Conti- 
nental you would be in as much need of me as I was of 
you. Two are always better than one.” 


22 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


“Why didn’t you call out? I’d have stopped in a 
minute.” 

“ I didn’t dare to. We’re close to the battlefield yet, and 
there’s no knowing who may be searching. Indeed, I’m 
afraid searchers may be here now,” he hastily added, glanc- 
ing cautiously about him as he spoke. 

The two Continentals stood and listened, but the only 
sounds they could hear were those of the songs of the birds. 
The air of the warm summer morning resounded with the 
notes of the songsters rejoicing in the return of the sunlight 
which now penetrated even the depths of the woods. 

“We must be ” began Alexander’s uncle, when he 

suddenly stopped, as for the first time he discovered that 
something was wrong with his nephew. “INIy dear boy, 
are you hurt ? Are you wounded ? ” he inquired anxiously. 
“ What a brute I was never to think of that.” 

“I — I believe I did get a rap on the head. I remember 
seeing a redcoat raising the butt of his gun, and the next 
thing I knew I was lying on the field and it was moonlight. 
I think I must have been wounded.” 

“You don’t have to tell me that. Come down by the 
bank and I’ll try to fix you up. No; we’d better find a 
spring, that water in the creek is salt and foul. There must 
be a spring somewhere around here. You can stay here 
and I’ll look around.” 

“I think I will. I feel it more now than I did when I 
started.” 

“ Of course you do ! Of course you do ! Sit right down 
here and lean against this tree, and I’ll be back in a minute. 
We mustn’t wait long, but if I can find some good, cool 


COMPANIONS IN MISERY 


23 


water, I’ll tie your head up with my neckerchief, and that 
will help some. My poor boy. What would your mother 
say if she could see you?” 

“I’m glad she can’t,” replied the lad, as he followed his 
uncle’s advice and seated himself upon the ground, and 
leaning against the tree watched his uncle as he darted into 
the woods in quest of a spring. 

What a relief it was to have found Uncle Dave, he thought. 
He watched him until his sturdy form had disappeared 
among the trees. From his earliest childhood his uncle 
had been his closest friend. He was less than ten years 
older than Alexander himself, and their relations had been 
much like those of brothers. 

David Adams, his mother’s youngest brother, short and 
thick-set, strong and vigorous, yet withal gentle and tender 
as a woman, had made his whistles and taught him how to 
fly his kites. In the days when he had been ill, Uncle 
Dave had watched by his bedside with the faithfulness and 
persistence of his own mother. And when at last he had 
been permitted to join the army, Alexander well knew that 
it was the fact of his uncle being in the same band which 
had led his mother to give her reluctant consent. 

And now he had found him again. At the very time 
when he had been most despairing, and had thought a red- 
coated soldier was about to claim him as his prisoner, his 
enemy had proved to be no one but Uncle Dave himself. 
He would ask him more about it when he came back, he 
thought ; but now he was too weak even to think, and clos- 
ing his eyes he leaned back once more against the tree. 

For several minutes he did not move, and then thinking 


24 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


he heard his uncle returning, he sat erect and looked about 
him. Directly before him, and not more than ten yards 
distant, was a man standing in the clump of bushes there. 

But he was clad in a uniform of scarlet, and the expres- 
sion upon his face was not such as he had ever seen on 
Uncle Dave’s. 


CHAPTER III 


OUT OF THE WOODS 

F or a moment it almost seemed to the young soldier that 
his heart had ceased beating. He uttered no cry and did 
not rise from his position, as with eyes still half closed 
he gazed at the redcoat before him. All his efforts to escape 
from the battlefield apparently had been useless, and the 
feeling of despair, as well as that of his inability to flee, 
made him numb and hopeless. Indeed, after the first shock 
at the sight of his enemy, he found himself vaguely won- 
dering what would be done with him, and what Uncle Dave 
would think when he returned to find that he was gone. 

Not much time was consumed in these vague question- 
ings however, for the redcoat whistled and then advanced 
from the bushes. Almost immediately Alexander could 
hear the footsteps of some one else coming and the com- 
panion of the soldier speedily approached and joined his 
friend. 

“What have you here?” sharply inquired the second 
soldier as he looked at Alexander. 

“Another one of the rebels, I fancy. The woods are full 
of ’em to-day.” 

“Not as full as they were yesterday. Let us see what 
this fellow is.” 

Both men were standing before him now, and still Alex- 
ander had not fully opened his eyes. The vague feeling of 

25 


26 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


alarm was not gone, but he had recovered sufficiently to 
resolve upon a course of action. 

One of the soldiers grasped him by the arm and endeav- 
ored to lift him to his feet, but the lad’s body was limp and 
he fell heavily forward. 

“ He’s hurt,” said one. “ That’s a bad looking head he’s 
got.” 

‘‘Yes, he is in a fix and no mistake. Speak up, lad,” he 
added, turning to Alexander, and again striving to assist 
him to rise. “ Speak up and tell us who you are and what 
can be done for you.” 

The lad made no reply. His head fell heavily forward 
as the soldier relaxed his grasp and the body sank to the 
ground again. His eyes were still partly closed, but if the 
light in them could have been seen by the men they might 
have concluded that the young Continental was not so 
badly off as he appeared to be. 

- “ The fellow’s most gone,” said one. “ There’s no dan- 
ger of his getting away. Leave him here and come on. 
We’ll attend to him on our way back. Just now we want 
to find some of the rebels who may be hiding hereabouts 
and are not so used up as this fellow seems to be.” 

“ All right,” replied his companion. “ He won’t get far 
away while we’re gone. Don’t forget the place,” he added, 
as he glanced carefully about him. 

The two soldiers restored the lad to the position he had 
occupied when they had found him, and then hurriedly 
departed into the woods to continue their search for such 
of the rebels as might still be concealed within their 
borders. 


OUT OF THE WOODS 


27 


No sooner had they disappeared than the wounded young 
patriot seemed to recover himself. His eyes were open 
now and he rose to his feet and started swiftly in the direc- 
tion in which his uncle had gone a few minutes before in 
his search for a spring. Stepping carefully, and yet en- 
deavoring to hasten, he ran rapidly forward and soon to his 
joy perceived David approaching. Raising his hand in 
token of silence he soon joined him. He had stopped in 
surprise at the sight of Alexander, who, as he approached, 
whispered: “They’re here. Uncle Dave. I just saw two 
of them.” 

“ Who’s here? The redcoats? ” 

“ Yes. Two of them found me, but they left me when 
they thought I was almost gone and couldn’t get away. 
They’re coming back though. They said they’d pick me 
up and take me to camp when they came back.” 

“ Where are they now ? Where did they go ? ” 

“There must be others hiding in these woods and these 
soldiers aren’t the only ones who are searching. I don’t 
see how we’re ever going to get away. Uncle Dave,” he 
added disconsolately. “Perhaps they’ve surrounded the 
woods.” 

“We’ll make an attempt anyway. Come on and follow 
me. Can you stand it to walk, or do you want me to help 
you ? ” 

“I can get along all right,” responded Alexander, as he 
followed his uncle, who now led the way back to the place 
where they had been before. 

Once there, they paused for a moment and listened in- 
tently. Not a sound could be heard nor could any one be 


28 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


seen. It seemed almost impossible to believe that in those 
very woods other Continentals might be hiding and that 
searching parties of their enemies were upon their track. 
And yet it was true, as they had too good reason to know. 

“Come this way, Alexander,” said his uncle quickly. 
“We’ll follow the bank. If we could only find a log or a 
boat we might float out with the tide.” 

Remaining within sight of the stream the two desperate 
men continued on their way. Frequently they paused and 
listened or peered carefully about them before they ad- 
vanced. Several times they thought they heard the dis- 
tant calls of men in the woods, and once the sound of a 
gun caused them both to stop abruptly, while Alexander’s 
cheeks were pale from a feeling not born of his aching 
head. Once they thought they discovered men in advance 
of them, and quickly darted behind the shelter of the trees ; 
but the alarm passed and they had succeeded in making 
their way for what must have been a full mile and still 
they had not been discovered. 

“I don’t believe I can go much farther,” said Alexander 
feebly. 

“ My poor boy,” responded his uncle quickly ; “sit down 
here a moment and rest.” He did not refer to his increas- 
ing anxiety^ %r the pale face of the suffering lad appealed 
too strongly for him to urge his nephew to further efforts. 
If capture came, it might as well come there as anywhere, 
he thought ; and if they went on as they had been going, 
apparently there was but one outcome, for it was evident 
that Alexander’s strength was almost gone. 

But the lad’s uncle was not yet ready to abandon hope. 


OUT OP THE WOODS 


29 


As soon as he had attended to the immediate wants of the 
suffering boy, he said : “ I’ll go on a piece farther, my boy, 
and see if I can’t find some way out, or something to help 
us. I sha’n’t be gone long.” 

“I’m awfully afraid they’ll come again while you’re 
gone.” 

“ I shall not go far. It may be I can find a better place 
than this. I’ll be back in a minute. Keep up your heart, 
lad ! We haven’t come as far as this to be taken at the 
last, if we can prevent it.” 

Alexander uttered no protest ; indeed, he was too weak 
for that, and in dumb misery watched his uncle as he ran 
swiftly forward along the bank of the stream. Somehow 
the tops of the tall trees seemed to him to be moving in a 
circle and he wondered what it meant. There was also a 
roaring in his ears like that which a flood of water might 
produce. Nothing above him seemed to be real, and it was 
with only a partial consciousness that he became aware 
that some one had grasped him about the body and was 
almost lifting him forw^ard. 

“Keep up your heart, lad, we’ll soon be all right,” he 
heard some one say. 

“That you. Uncle Dave?” he whispered. 

“Yes, yes. Lean harder on me. That’s the way. That’s 
right. It’s only a few yards now. Just a little more. 
Now then ! Here we are.” 

Alexander only partly realized what followed. He was 
dimly aware that they had stepped from the bank and were 
in the water. Then it seemed to him that he was again 
lifted in some one’s strong arms and laid upon the ground ; 


30 


A PRISONER In BlTEi' 


but he was too weary to make inquiries and soon forgot all. 
lie did not know that his uncle had found a place where 
the water had washed the earth from under the bank, nor 
was he aware that Uncle Dave had taken his own coat from 
his back and laid it upon the damp, foul ground before he 
was stretched ui)on it. He realized but little for a long 
time, and even the passing of the hours was as nothing to 
him. 

When at last he opened his eyes, he beheld his uncle’s 
face close to his own and heard him say, “ I’m afraid we’ll 
have to get out of this, my boy. The tide is coming in 
strong and it looks as if it would come up here. If I carry 
you, you can stand it, can’t you? I want to get you out of 
this.” 

“I — I — think I’m all right now,” replied Alexander, sit- 
ting erect as he spoke. 

“No; no. I’ll carry you in my arms. Don’t move. 
There ! That’s the way.” 

In a moment the strong man had lifted his nephew once 
more, and unmindful of the water soon placed him safely 
upon the bank. Then clambering up after him, he placed 
his arm about the lad’s body and began to move once more 
through the woods. 

“Don’t ! Please don’t. Uncle Dave ! I’m all right now, 
and can go alone.” 

“ Very well ! Let me know when you want to stop.” 

Together the two then kept on their way. Alexander 
certainly was feeling stronger, and in spite of the fact that 
not a mouthful of food or water had passed his lips since 
the preceding day, was able to make fairly good progress. 



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'. ’*"^1 -- 




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. . .- ,-:t ^;Z-^T 



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“The stranger was only a boy.” 


Page 31 


OUT OF THE WOODS 


31 


“Where’s your coat, Uncle Dave?” he whispered, for 
the first time noting that his companion was coatless. 

“There! I declare I left it back on the bank. But 
never mind, there are other things more important than 
that now. If we can only get a little farther into the 
island, I believe we’ll throw the redcoats off the scent, after 
all. Isn’t that a road I see ahead there now ?” 

Both stopped and peered intently before them. It was 
late in the afternoon, but they could see the cleared spaces 
and what looked like a country road not far in advance of 
them. 

“ I think we’re a good way from the battlefield now, lad, 
and we’ll make for that road, though whether we’ll keep 
to it or not remains to be seen.” 

Once more they resumed their efforts, Alexander in spite 
of his sufferings endeavoring to keep up with his compan- 
ion and uttering no complaint. Soon they had gained the 
rough road and to their surprise discovered some one walk- 
ing toward them. 

The surprise seemed to be mutual, and when it was per- 
ceived that the stranger was only a boy, and that he was 
as startled by the sight of them as they had been by that 
of him, their momentary alarm subsided. 

As the boy acted as if he was about to turn and run, 
David hailed him, and at last succeeded in making him 
wait for them to approach, though the expression upon his 
face was not altogether reassuring. 

“ You’re rebels 1 That’s what you are,” said the little 
fellow, as, ready to dart away in a moment, he waited for 
them to come nearer. 


32 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


Tiiere was no doubt as to the sympathies of the stranger 
lad ; but David was resolved to learn something from him 
if possible, and holding forth a coin, said: “You can use 
that, can’t you? It isn’t rebel money anyway.” 

“’Course I can use it,” replied the boy, grasping the 
money and then retreating to a safe distance. 

“The rebels were whipped all to pieces. Y'ou look like 
as if you was some o’ the pieces too.” 

“Very likely. I suppose there are no rebels left around 
here.” 

“Not much! Everybody’s a king’s man now, that is, 
’most everybody. I s’pose Cap’n Schenck’s much of a 
rebel as ever he was. But he won’t be long now, my poj) 
says. Everybody knows enough to quit.” 

“Yes, tliey’ll probably quit, as you say, that is, every- 
body except this Captain Schenck. Where did you say he 
lived?” 

“I didn’t say,” replied the lad shrewdly. “I don’ 
know as anybody could tell, ’cause he isn’t home much of 
the time, ye see.” 

“ Perhaps his wife won’t have such a rebel as he is in her 
house.” 

“ Some says so and some says not so. You don’t catch 
me goin’ round there much, though, Not much I don’t,” 
and the lad wagged his head wisely. 

“That’s right. Keep away from the rebels. Tell me 
where she lives so that we can keep away from her too.” 

“ Guess she won’t hurt him,'' said the boy, pointing his 
finger at Alexander as he spoke. “He’s a gone goose, 
that’s what he is.” 


OUT OF THE WOODS 


33 


“ Where did you say Captain Schenck lived? ” said David 
quickly, holding forth another coin. 

“ Got lots o’ them, haven’t ye ? ” said the lad, as he took 
the piece and hastily thrust it into his pocket, whither its 
companion had gone. 

“Not any more if you don’t tell us where Captain 
Schenck’ s wife lives.” 

“ I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell ye. Anybody knows they 
live in the little yellow house down by the cove, ’bout half 
a mile down the road.” 

“Thank you. Then if we want to keep out of Mistress 
Schenck’s clutches, we want to go in the other direction. 
Come, Alexander ! ” And grasping his nephew by the arm 
he assisted him to walk as they crossed the road and started 
toward the woods in the distance. 

They had gone about half the way when David stopped 
and looked at the boy with whom they had been talking. 
He could see him running swiftly in the distance, but the 
shrewd smile upon the lad’s face could not be seen, an<k 
perhaps if it had been, it might not have been understood 
by the two suffering Continentals, as in the deepening dusk 
they resumed their flight toward the woods. 


c 


CHAPTER IV 


ISRAEL SCHENCK’s WIFE 

W ITH the settinpj of the sun a heavy fog had appeared, 
which threatened to conceal everything on tlie 
island. The damp mist was rolled in from the sea 
in clouds, and David began to fear lest he should lose his 
way in w'hat was likely to be a deeper darkness than that 
of the night. 

When they had gained the shelter of the woods, and 
Alexander had thrown himself upon the ground, almost 
indifferent now as to what was to become of him, his uncle 
said : 

“ My poor boy, the only thing we can do is to go back 
and try to make our way to this Captain Schenck’s that 
boy told us about.” 

As Alexander made no reply, David waited a moment 
and then continued : ‘‘ Perhaps I might leave you here and 
go on there alone, and then if I don’t find any help, or if I 
do, for the matter of that, I can come back to you. What 
do you think ? ” 

“ How far is it?” inquired Alexander feebly. 

“The boy said it was about half a mile straight down the 
road.” 

“I don’t want you to leave me. I’m afraid you’d never 
find me again in this fog. I can try to go with you, anyway. 
But, Uncle Dave, don’t you feel afraid to go there? Don’t 
34 


ISRAEL SCHENCK’s WIFE 


35 


you think the boy will tell that he met us, and that he told 
us about Captain Schenck? ” 

“We’ll have to take some chances,” replied his uncle 
quietly. 

He was fearful of the very thing his nephew had sug- 
gested. If he had been alone he never would have ven- 
tured ; but the pitiable plight of the boy appealed to him 
strongly, and for his sake he was resolved to seek the home 
of the unknown Captain Schenck, whatever the danger. 

“I’ll try then. Uncle Dave,” said Alexander, attempting 
to rise as he spoke. 

His weakness now had returned with increased force, and 
it seemed to the suffering lad as if he could not take one 
stej). His lips were parched with thirst, and the pain in 
his head became more and more severe. It had been many 
hours since he had tasted food, and only the feeling of sheer 
desperation could make him put forth any effort. 

With many expressions of sympathy and encouragement, 
his uncle helped him to proceed, and when they had re- 
entered the road he paused for his companion to rest, while 
he himself endeavored to ascertain whether other men were 
in the road or not. The mist was now almost like rain, and 
in sheets was driven against their faces by the Avarm, damp 
wind from the sea. Not a sound was heard to alarm them, 
however, and as soon as Alexander had recovered himself a 
little, the toilsome journey was resumed. On and on they 
proceeded, but no little house by the roadside was discov- 
ered. Frequently halting for rest, the watchful David Avas 
all the time alert and half expecting to hear the sounds of 
approaching footsteps. 


36 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


It seemed to him that they must have gone far beyond 
the distance of a half-mile, of which the boy had spoken, 
and still no little yellow house could be seen. Alexander 
could not proceed much fartlier, that was evident. Almost 
every step now was accompanied by a groan, and in spite 
of the constant efforts of his uncle to support him, it seemed 
as if the lad must fall to the ground. 

At last, almost in despair, and with his voice trembling 
in spite of all his efforts to control it, David said : “ My boy, 
you’ll have to stay here a minute while I go back and see 
if we haven’t passed the house. I sha’n’t be gone long. 
You’re not afraid to stay, are you?” 

But Alexander made no reply. Indeed he seemed hardly 
to hear the words of his uncle, so near to complete exhaus- 
tion was he now. Without waiting for further words, David 
led the lad to one side of the road, placed him on the ground 
with his back against a tree, and then once more promising 
to return speedily, started back over the road by which they 
had come. 

The darkness and the fog combined to make his way more 
difficult. He could see only a few yards in advance of him, 
and even if a candle-light should be in the house for which 
he was searching, he feared he would not be able to see it 
in the gloom. Still he pushed his way forward, and had 
gone what seemed to him a long distance, when he was 
startled by what he took to be the barking of a dog off to 
the right of the road. 

Instantly he stopped and listened, but the sound was not 
repeated. Uncertain whether to advance, or to turn aside 
and make an examination where he was, he at last decided 


ISRAEL. SCHENCK^S WIFE 37 

to do the latter, and to his inexpressible delight found a 
rude wagon jDath leading from the road. Doubtless this was 
a lane leading to some house, he thought, for most of the 
houses at the time were located back from the road, and 
were approached by a path which frequently led across pas- 
tures, or even across the plowed fields. Eagerly he followed 
the rough pathway, and soon perceived the outlines of a 
small house before him ; but there was no light in its 
windows, and nothing to indicate that the place was in- 
habited. 

Carefully he approached, and soon found himself in front 
of the low door in the rear of the building. He tried to 
find out the color of the building, for the boy who had in- 
formed him of Captain Schenck’s political leanings had also 
informed him that he dwelt in a “little yellow house,” but 
the darkness was too intense for him to perceive whether 
it had ever been painted or not. He could not even be sure 
that any one was within, for not a sound about the place 
had been heard, and the silence continued unbroken. 

The thought of the suffering boy he had left by the road- 
side soon enabled David to decide upon a course of action, 
and lifting his hand he knocked loudly upon the kitchen 
door. The barking of a dog instantly disclosed the fact 
that some one was within, but no one came to the door, 
and the dog soon became silent. 

Again David knocked more loudly than before, but no 
response was given to his summons, this time even the dog 
refraining from any reply save a low growl. Then in sheer 
desperation David began to knock again, and in his eager- 
ness shook the door with all his strength. 


38 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


Tiiis time a response was made, and he could hear a win- 
dow raised in the upper part of the house, and a voice which 
evidently belonged to a woman called out sharply ; “ Who’s 
there? What d’ye want? Can’t ye leave peaceful folks 
alone ? Who be ye ? ” 

David, reassured by the sound, instantly moved to the 
side of the building from which the sound seemed to come, 
and looking up could perceive the dim outlines of a face 
and shoulders leaning forth from the window above 
him. 

“ Who be ye, I say?” demanded the woman once more. 
“How many of you is there? What d’ye want to disturb 
a lone woman for on such a night as this? ” 

“My good woman ” began David in his most per- 

suasive tone. 

“ Don’t ye try that game on me. You don’t know whether 
I’m a good woman or not. State yer business, or get out, 
afore I set Jupe on ye.” 

“I only wanted to know whether Captain Schenck lived 
here, and whether he was at home or not.” 

“ I don’t see how it concerns you whether Captain 
Schenck lives here or not. He isn’t to home, anyway. If 
that’s all ye want to know, I’ll shut the windy and go 
back to bed, where all decent folks ought to be this time o’ 
night!” 

“Hold on ! Don’t go ! ” said David quickly. “I know 
about Captain Schenck. I’m a Continental, escaped from 
the battle over here. You’ll listen to me, I know you will. 
You must hear me ! ” he pleaded more eagerly. “It isn’t 
for myself alone.” 


ISRAEL SCHENCK’s WIFE 


39 


The woman -appeared to hesitate a moment before she 
said: “ ITl be downstairs in a minute. You’re sure you’re 
all alone ? ” 

“Yes, yes. There’s no one here but me.” 

“Stay right where ye be, then, and I’ll come down and 
see to ye.” 

There was a brief delay and then the side door of the 
house was opened and David was bidden to enter. A can- 
dle had been lighted, and as the soldier stepped into the 
room he beheld a tall, angular woman, apparently about 
fifty years of age, standing in front of him holding a gun 
in her hands. It was evident too, David thought, that 
she would use it if the occasion required ; but as he was 
unarmed he had slight fear of trouble on that score, and 
besides, the thought of his suffering nephew, whom he had 
left by the roadside, was stronger than all other motives at 
the time. 

As he entered the dog growled and acted as if he was 
ready to advance and defend his mistress from all comers. 

“Be still, you Jupe,” said the woman sharply ; and with 
drooping tail the chagrined Jupiter withdrew behind his 
mistress, from which place he still peered forth at the in- 
truder with w'hat was evidently no friendly feeling. 

“ Now then,” she added, “ say yer say. You’re a pretty 
looking sight, I declare ! ” she added, as she marked his ap- 
X>earance. ‘ ‘ Where’ s yer coat ? Where’ s yer h at ? ” 

“That’s more than I know. I didn’t stop for the one 
when I started, and the other I left back by Gowanus 
Creek. Now, my good woman ” 

“Didn’t I tell ye not to call me that? How d’ye know 


40 


A PEISONER IN BUFF 


whether I’m a good woman or not. Some says I am and 
some says I am not. You just say what ye’ve got to say, 
and say it quick too.” 

^‘Tell me, are you Mistress Schenck?” 

“What if I am? Speak up, will ye? I sh a’ n’t be able 
to keep Jupe here quiet forever,” she added, as a fresh 
growl came from the dog. 

Thus bidden David resolved to tell his story. Briefly he 
related the events which had led up to his present trouble. 
He described the condition of his nephew and the desper- 
ate need of aid in which both stood. 

The woman listened intently until all the story had been 
told, and then said : “I believe ye. I believe every word 
ye say. Ye may be lyin’ to me, but I’m goin’ to believe 
ye jist the same. No one shall ever say as how Israel 
Schenck’ s wife turned out two lorn Continentals such a 
night as this. I don’t believe in the war any more’n I did 
afore it begun, but Israel does, andl’ma-goin’ to stan’ by 
Israel, that’s what I’m a-goin’ to do. Now you bring that 
boy right in here and I’ll do my best for him, that’s what 
I will.” 

The w^oman still spoke sharply, but the change in her 
attitude was apparent, and in the thought that at last he 
had found aid and a resting-place for a time for his suffer- 
ing nephew, David’s heart rejoiced. 

“He isn’t here. I left him about a quarter of a mile up 
the road,” he explained. “I’ll go and get him right 
away.” 

“What? What’s that ye say? Left him a quarter of a 
mile up the road, did ye? That’s a smart thing, I must 


41 


ISRAEL SCHENCK^S WIFE 

say ! Ye need an uncle or a grandmarm to look after you 
yourself, that’s what you. do. Land sakes ! I wonder if 
you expect to be able to find that boy in all this fog. Just 
as like’s not he’s dead by this time. And you a-standin’ 
here talkin’ to me like this all the time.” 

‘‘I’ll go at once,” said David, turning as he spoke 
towards the door. 

“ Hold on, will ye? I’m tellin’ ye ye won’t be able to 
find him in this fog. Here, I’ll go with ye, that’s what 
I’ll do, and I’ll take Jupe along too. He’s worth a dozen 
men ! Ye may be leadin’ me straight into Lord Cornwallis’ 
camp, for all I know, but Israel Schenck’s wife is a-goin’ to 
go with ye, that’s what she’s goin’ to do.” 

Too glad to utter a protest, David joined the woman who 
still held to her gun, and with Jupiter as a guide and pro- 
tector, started at once from the house in search of the 
wounded Alexander, who had been left by the roadside in 
a place which even David feared he could not find. 


CHAPTER V 


AN INTERRUPTION 

little party moved steadily forward, and for a time 
not a word was spoken. The thick sea air, which 
seemed almost to drip with moisture, the rough and 
uneven road, and the dense darkness, all combined to make 
David and his comjianion careful of every step they took. 
Even Jupiter seemed to share in the anxiety of his mistress, 
and kept close to her side. 

They had gone about half the distance, as it seemed to 
David, to the spot where Alexander had been left, when 
the dog suddenly uttered a low growl and stopped short. 

Mistress Schenck instantly turned to David and said : 

“Here, come out of the road, Jupe’s heard something.” 

David followed his companion as she turned from the 
road, and withdrawing only a short distance, stopped and 
said: “There, I guess that’ll do'! Somebody’s coming up 
the road, I should think, from the dog’s actions.” 

Every faculty in David’s mind was alert now. He peered 
through the darkness expecting every moment to hear the 
approach of men ; but the only sounds were those of the 
dripping leaves of the trees behind him. He felt that 
he could not longer leave Alexander. The lad might have 
met with capture or foul play already, and the alarm of the 
dog might have been aroused by the presence of men at 
whose hands his nephew had suffered. The thought was 
42 


AX IXTERR OPTION 


43 


more than he could bear, and tlie eager man was about to 
start again when another low growl from Jupiter caused 
him to wait. 

Mistress Schenck dropped upon her knees, and throwing 
an arm around the neck of the dog, whispered to him and 
strove to keex) him silent. David, meanwhile, crept stealth- 
ily forward toward the road, but stopped suddenly when he 
tliought he heard the voice of a man. A moment later he 
knew he had not been deceived, and through the mist 
he beheld the dim outlines of several men moving ui) the 
road in the direction from which he and Mistress Schenck 
had just come. The figures were seen but a moment, and 
then disappeared, as the shadows cast by a passing cloud 
on a summer’s day seem to dart across the land and then 
depart no one knows whither. 

David was excited by the presence of the men, but he did 
not move until they had gone, and then he stealthily re- 
turned to INIistress Schenck and reported what he had seen. 

“Just as likely’s not it was some o’ Israel Schenck’s 
men,” she said. “It’s time he was home hours ago. He 
told me he had some slick work to do to-night, and maybe 
he wouldn’t be home afore mornin.’ If it is Israel, and he 
goes home and finds I’m out and nothin’ cooked for him 
he’ll raise a racket they can hear clear over to Brooklyn 
Heights ; for Israel Schenck is one who likes his victuals, 
and he wants them right away when he does want ’em 
too.” 

Eeassuredby the words of the woman, David hastened to 
say : “Then you go right home if you think that was your 
husband. I’ll look up my nephew, for he can’t be far away 


44 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


now, and as soon as I find him I’ll bring him up to your 
house, if you don’t object.” 

“I’m a goin’ with you and help find that boy,” said the 
woman decidedly. “Israel Schenck will know better than 
to find a word o’ fault with me when he hears what I have 
been a doin’. He knows me, Israel does ; and if he doesn’t 
it’s his own fault, for he has had plenty o’ opportunities to 
find out about Samantha Schenck in the thirty years we’ve 
lived together in that little house. Come, we’ll go at once, 
for we’ve no time to waste here in talkin’. I never was no 
hand to talk myself, spite of all Israel Schenck says about 
that subject. So, if it please you, we’ll take Jupe and go on 
with our search for that son o’ yours.” 

“Nephew, not son,” said David, as he eagerly started 
with the woman back to the road. 

“Nephew or son, it’s one and the same thing to-night, 
I guess. Now you look sharp. Maybe if you called out, by 
and by, a little low, you know, you might make him under- 
stand some o’ his friends was not far away.” 

There was a fear in David’s heart now that the party 
which had passed them was not Israel Schenck’ s, but some 
prowling band of the redcoats still searching for escaped 
Continentals. Perhaps Alexander had heard them, and 
mistaking them for his uncle, had betrayed his presence 
and been carried away to the British camp. A hundred 
vague surmises, born of his fears and his own weariness, 
filled David’s heart, and in his eagerness he pushed on in 
advance of both Jupiter and his mistress. 

His alarm was increased as he perceived that he could 
not tell precisely where he had left the lad. In the thick 


AN INTERRUPTION 


45 


darkness he several times stopped, thinking that at last he 
had discovered the spot, but only to be disappointed, for 
the lad could not be found. 

At last he acted upon Mistress Schenck’s suggestion and 
called, at first in low tones ; then, unmindful of his own 
danger, in a louder and louder voice. But no reply was 
heard, and the silence seemed to be intensified by the 
sound of his cry. 

“Here, you Jupe, look him up! Look him up!” said 
Mistress Schenck to her dog. 

Jupiter appeared to comprehend the demands now made 
upon him, and running in advance of them, darted first to 
one side of the road and then to the other. Fi’equently he 
dashed into the bushes or among the trees as the party 
moved forward, but still the missing Alexander could not 
be found. 

David’s heart was filled now with a dumb anguish. He 
blamed himself for having abandoned his nephew. He 
could not banish the picture of the lad’s mother when she 
should hear that he had found him and then had left him 
to himself, perhaps to be carried away by the searching 
soldiers or to die of neglect in some forlorn spot by the 
roadside. 

His alarm was broken in upon by a sudden sharp bark of 
the dog, which was now in advance of him, and stopping 
for a moment to listen, he heard his companion say, 
“Jupe’s found something.” And then, at full speed, he 
dashed ahead to the spot from which the sound seemed to 
have come. 

In a few minutes he heard the bark repeated close beside 


46 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


him, and leaping up the bank from the road, to his inex- 
pressible delight he found Alexander seated where he had 
left him and still leaning back against the tree. 

But the lad had not spoken, and David kneeled by his 
side, fearful of something he dared not utter, but he quickly 
discovered that the boy was asleep. 

He placed his hand upon his shoulder and was delighted 
when he moved slightly, and then said: “Is that you. 
Uncle Dave?” 

“Yes, yes. I’ve brought help for you. Can you move, 
now?” 

“I think so, if you’ll help me a little,” he replied, as he 
endeavored to rise. 

IMistress Schenck now joined them, and as she dimly be- 
held the 5mung soldier, she said : “Found him, did ye?” 

“Yes, yes,” said David eagerly. “Now, if we can only 
get him up to your house, he’ll be all right.” 

“We’ll get him there, never you fear,” answered the 
woman. ‘ ‘ Can he walk ? ’ ’ 

“I’ll try,” replied Alexander, as, placing his hand upon 
his uncle’s shoulder, he took a few steps forward. 

The effort was painful, and his w^eakness w^as so evident 
that Mistress Schenck said shortly: “Here, you! You 
hold him up on one side and I’ll look after the other. It 
isn’t very far you’ve got to go, lad. Now, then 1 Don’t be 
afraid o’ loanin’ hard. I’m only a woman, but I’m Israel 
Schenck’s wife, and that counts for somethin’ in times like 
these, I’d have ye know.” 

Alexander never knew just how the journey was accom- 
plished, and even his uncle could not have described it after- 


AN INTERRUPTION 


47 


ward ; but somehow it was made, after many stops for rest 
and frequent intervals when he and the strong woman lifted 
the young soldier and bore him forward in their arms. At 
last they came to the lane which led to the house of Mistress 
Schenck. 

Before they turned into it, David said: “Wait here a 
minute and let me run up ahead and see if everything’s all 
right.” 

“That’s not a bad idee,” said the woman, as she obedi- 
ently seated herself by Alexander’s side and prepared to 
wait. It was evident that there was a common fear in the 
hearts of David and Mistress Schenck alike, and the sugges- 
tion of the former seemed good to both. 

In a few moments David returned and reported that he 
could not discover any one about the place, and then the 
three started up the lane. In a brief time they approached 
the house, and then Alexander was lifted in their arms and 
borne into the little kitchen. 

All of Mistress Schenck’s brusqueness seemed to have 
disappeared now. As soon as she had lighted a candle, she 
made a careful observation of the suffering young soldier. 
And truly his appearance was one to have moved a harder 
heart than that of Israel Schenck’s wife. The wound upon 
his head, his pallid and blood-stained face, and the marks 
of suffering and weakness were so vivid, that Mistress 
Schenck forgot even to make her customary remarks about 
the wickedness and uselessness of the war, remarks which, 
though made with a sharp tongue, could not utterly conceal 
the warm heart which was hers. 

First she gave the young soldier water to drink, then she 


48 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


bathed his face and aching head, tasks in which she was 
assisted by David. When all this had been done, she set 
such food as the house afforded before them, and the rav- 
enous manner in which her two guests cleared her table 
seemed to afford her as great delight as the food gave them. 

“Now, then, ye’re both goin’ to bed,” she said; “that’s 
jest what ye’re goin’ to do. There’s a room upstairs all 
waitin’ for ye.” 

“ What are you going to do?” inquired David. 

“Me? Oh, I don’t know jest what I shall do. I shall 
be up and down maybe. Somebody’s got to keep one eye 
open to-night. ’Twill never do for us all to go to sleep, 
leastwise all the time.” 

Too utterly exhausted to protest, David assisted Alex- 
ander up the low stairway. Mistress Schenck leading the 
way and holding a candle in her hands, and entered the 
room to which they had been assigned. Then the woman 
left them and a few moments later both soldiers threw 
themselves upon the bed and were sleeping as only ex- 
hausted men can sleep. 

How long he had slept, David did not know, but he was 
suddenly awakened by feeling some one shaking him rudely 
by the shoulder. As he opened his eyes he could see that 
it was broad daylight and the room was filled with sun- 
shine. A moment later he was aware that Mistress Schenck 
was shaking him sturdily and then he heard her words. 

“ Wake up ! Wake up, I tell ye ! The redcoat soldiers 
are here. They’re down in the lane now. Wake up ! 
Wake up ! ” 

David was wide-awake now, and leaping from the bed 


AN INTERRUPTION 


49 


lie ran to the window and peered out. The yeoman had 
spoken truly and he could see a band of half a dozen scarlet- 
clad men approaching the house. To escape was impossi- 
ble now, for they could not leave without being discovered. 
Almost in despair he turned toward Mistress Schenck, but 
the expression upon her face was different from that he had 
expected to see, and for a moment a new fear seized upon 
the heart of the anxious man. 


D 


CHAPTER VI 


THE SEARCH 

D avid instantly was ashamed of the suspicion which 
had flashed upon his mind, but the fact that he really 
knew but little of the woman before him, as well as 
the startling and unexpected appearance of the redcoats, 
had for the moment completely disconcerted him. 

Mistress Schenck, all unaware of the thought in her com- 
panion’s mind, quickly roused the sleeping Alexander, and 
as the lad stirred and groaned before he opened his eyes, 
she said ; “ We’ll have to take him downstairs. You carry 
him by the shoulders and I’ll lift his feet.” 

Despite his protests, for the young soldier was wide- 
awake now, he was lifted from the high bed and borne 
speedily down the stairs to the kitchen. Glancing out of 
the open door David could see the redcoats approaching. 
They were half-way from the road now and in a few min- 
utes would be in the house. Perhaps they had already dis- 
covered his presence there, and in his increasing anxiety 
David said : 

“What are we to do? They’ll surely find us. Can’t we 
hide in the well?” 

He had seen the old-fashioned well sunk behind the 
house and the sight had instantly suggested the hiding- 
place. 

“I’m fixin’ ye now. Here, take hold and help me.” 

50 


THE SEARCH 


51 


The woman was tugging at some of the broad rough 
boards which made up the kitchen floor, and without per- 
ceiving her object David instantly responded and cxuickly 
lifted a part of the floor from its place. The moments were 
passing raj^idly and every instant he expected to behold 
the soldiers before the open door. 

‘‘ Quick ! quick ! ” exclaimed the eager woman. 

“ What ? What do you want? ” replied David. 

“ Was there ever such a lunkhead ! Give me a man for 
a fool. Crawl in there, both of ye. Quick ! quick ! They’ll 
get ye. Quick ! quick ! ” 

Already she was pushing Alexander into the place, and 
instantly perceiving her plan David hurriedly assisted her, 
then took his place by his nephew’s side. The boards 
were dropped back into their place, and just after Mistress 
Schenck had seized a pail of water and a long-handled 
mop, the redcoats entered the door. 

Every word of the conversation that followed could be 
heard by the prisoners beneath the floor and David’s heart 
was thumping hard and he was breathing rapidly in his 
excitement and fear. The boards rested so closely upon 
him that he was unable to turn from his position, and his 
face was almost pressed against the floor above him. But 
thoughts of comfort were all forgotten as he listened to 
what was said in the room. 

“ There ye be again, be )"e ? ” demanded Mistress Schenck 
sharply of the leader as he doffed his hat. She stood hold- 
ing the mop in the pail of water, and facing her visitors 
with an air of boldness she was far from feeling. 

“ Yes, we’re here once more,” said the man laughingly. 


52 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


‘‘Well, mighty little good it’ll do ye, I’m thinkin’. 
Ye’ve already taken everything off the place that’s worth 
takin’. I haven’t got a pig or a chicken left.” 

“ Oh, we aren’t after your poultry this time.” 

“Lucky for you, ye aren’t, for I haven’t heard a rooster 
crow in weeks. Well, then, what have ye come for? Is it 
for me or the house ? ” 

“Neither, my good woman, neither. We should be de- 
lighted, I am sure, to have your company ” 

“There ye go again. Good woman. Good woman. You 
don’t know \\diether I’m a good woman or not. If I acted 
as I felt, ye wouldn’t think I was such an extraordinary 
good female, I’m thinkin’,” and Mistress Schenck grasped 
her mop-handle more tightly and unflinchingly faced the 
men, all of whom had now crowded their way into her 
kitchen and stood listening in no ill-humor to her words. 

“We’re after men then, if you want to know the real 
object of our visit.” 

“ Men? Men? I don’t know where ye think ye’re goin’ 
to get men from. Ye’ve got every Tory round here now, 
and as for the Whigs, they don’t stand round w’aitin’ for 3^e 
to come an’ take ’em to j’^our camp. Men! Men is it? 
I’m thinkin’ ye need men more’n ye need anything 
else.” 

The man’s face flushed slightly, but he did not raise his 
voice as he replied: “We won’t stand here talkin’ about 
the matter, if you please. We’ve been scouring the coun- 
try searching for rebels. There weren’t very many of ’em 
who got away after the battle, and we have managed to 
pick up the most of those who did. But we’ve had word 


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THE SEAKCH 


53 


from a friend that two could very likely be found in your 
place, so we’ve come to see for ourselves. Have you seen 
any rebels?” 

“No, I haven’t seen any rebels!” retorted the woman 
sharply, though her face became a shade paler as she spoke. 

■“Perhaps they have hidden themselves somewhere about 
the place without your knowledge,” suggested the man. 

Mistress Schenk looked scornfully at the leader as she re- 
plied: “Just as like as not ! Perhaps they came crawlin’ 
round stealin’ my pigs an’ chickens, and never sayin’ a 
word or payin’ for the privilege 1 I have known of such 
goin’ on in my day, but they somehow always wore red 
coats and strutted like turkey gobblers.” 

“ Your husband is a rebel, I believe.” 

“I’m not hinderin’ yer belief. Ye can believe what ye 
choose same’s ye take what ye want without consultin’ me. 
Only I don’t believe, I know Israel Schenck’s no rebel, if 
that’s what ye want me to say.” 

“ Opinions differ as to that. I must search your house, 
my good woman, we’ve wasted too much time now.” 

“There it is again. Good woman 1 Good woman I It’s 
always good woman when ye’ve got somethin’ specially 
mean to do.” 

Giving her no further heed, the leader sharply ordered 
three of the men to search the barn and all the outbuildings, 
while he and his two companions were engaged in a similar 
task within the house. The band instantly separated, and 
those who remained prepared to carry out the order of the 
leader. One of them unfortunately struck the bucket of 
water with his foot and tipped it over. 


54 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


Instantly Mistress Schenck’s wrath blazed forth afresh. 
Lifting her mop she drove the wet rags straight into the 
soldier’s face, exclaiming hotly: “Ye awkward brute! 
Don’t ye know any better’n to do that? Isn’t it enough 
for ye to come round here this time o’ the mornin’ and 
spile my work, without tippin’ over my suds? I’ll show 
ye ! ” 

The soldier, angered by the assault, lifted the butt of his 
gun to strike the defenseless woman before him ; but her 
very boldness saved her. With flashing eyes she again 
raised her mop-stick and stood ready to defend herself. 
An encounter such as few of our histories have recorded 
might have followed had not the leader said quickly ; 

“ Don’t hit her. Jack, she’s only a woman. She acts as 
if she was nervous. She’s got friends somewhere here, and 
we must find them. Leave her alone.” 

Reluctantly the soldier lowered his gun, and with a 
smothered exclamation of anger joined his companions in 
their search, the woman meanwhile remaining in the 
kitchen. As if to show her contempt for her visitors, she 
refilled the pail and began to mop the floor. Somehow her 
efforts seemed to be directed more to that part of the room 
under which the two Continentals were concealed than to 
any other, but neither by word nor glance did she betray 
the deep anxiety which was in her heart. 

She could hear the redcoats moving about in the rooms 
above her, overturning her chests and evidently making 
free with all her possessions. A bright red spot appeared 
upon each of the woman’s cheeks as she stopped and lis- 
tened, and once or twice she acted as if she was about to 


THE SEARCH 


55 


move upon the enemy with the weapon which already had 
been so effective in her hands ; but something restrained 
lier and not once did she quit the kitchen. 

In a brief time the soldiers returned, and as they entered 
the room Mistress Schenck paused in her labors and looking 
up at them said : “ Where’s your rebels? I don’t see any. 
Did they get away?” 

The leader made no reply, but turning to his men said : 
“ Go down cellar. Perhaps there’s some one down there.” 

The search in the cellar, which ran under only a part of 
the house, was as unavailing as that in the other parts had 
been, and as they returned to the kitchen, one of them 
said: “ITl go out to the barn and help the boys there. 
They may have to pitch all the hay off the mows.” 

“There isn’t much hay there,” exclaimed Mistress 
Schenck ; “ but I know one thing, and that is, if Israel was 
to home he’d have a hand in the pitchin’ too ; only he 
wouldn’t pitch hay, he’d pitch men.” 

“I regret as much as you, my good woman, that your 
rebel husband doesn’t appear to be here. If he was ” 

“ If you say ‘ my good woman ’ to me again I’ll serve you 
the way I did that other redcoat. You don’t know whether 
I’m a good woman or not ; and anyway I ain’t your good 
woman, I’d have ye know.” 

“ For which may the good Lord make us truly thankful,” 
replied the leader. 

Mistress Schenck glared at him a moment as if language 
had failed her, then apparently ignoring his presence she 
began again to mop the floor with a display of energy that 
was truly amazing. 


56 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


Meanwhile the leader was not idle. While the men were 
searching the barns, he himself examined the well, and 
even dug over the ashes in the “smoke house” as if he 
thought' some rebel might be concealed there. Then re- 
turning to the house he again ransacked every closet, but 
all was in vain. 

Standing in the kitchen directly over the place where the 
unfortunate Continentals were concealed, he once more 
faced the woman. 

“There don’t appear to be any men concealed here,” he 
said at last. 

Mistress Schenck snorted defiantly, but made no other 
reply. 

“But I am sure they are here somewhere, and if you 
could only see it, it would be a great deal better for you, and 
for them too, for you to give them up. The rebels are 
whipped and the end of the war, if you call it by that name, 
has come. It’ll simply help matters along for all, if you 
give over these men to us now.” ^ 

“But ‘the rebels are whipped and the end of the war 
has come,’ ” said Mistress Schenck, mimicking his tones. 
“Now, if they he whipped and the end has come, I don’t see 
for the life of me what you’re doing here. Why don’t you 
clear out an’ leave me in peace? ‘The rebels are whipped 
and the end of the war has come,’ ” she repeated, mimicking 
his tones still more sharply than before. 

“But, my good woman ” 

“There! What’d I tell ye?” demanded the woman 
sharply, as she lifted her mop and advanced upon the sol- 
dier. 


THE SEARCH 


57 


The man stepped hastily backward, but unaware of the 
‘‘ soft soap ” Mistress Schenck had been using upon the floor 
in her labors, his foot slipped and with a resounding thud 
he sat down upon the wet boards in a position neither dig- 
nifled nor comfortable, if one could have judged from the 
expression upon his face. 

Mistress Schenck’ s loud laugh served to anger him still 
further, and springing hastily to his feet he rushed upon 
her, and tearing from her grasp the offending implement 
which had been the cause of his downfall, he flung it far 
out into the yard. He was thoroughly enraged now, and 
all his courteous words were forgotten. Turning to his 
companions who had just come from the barns, he de- 
manded : 

“Did you And ’em?” 

“ No, we couldn’t And any signs of a rebel.” 

“Well, they’re here, whether you found them or not. 
We’ll set Are to the place and smoke ’em out. If they’re 
here they’ll crawl out of their holes, and if they aren’t, it’ll 
be a rat’s nest cleared away.” 

The men instantly scattered to carry out his bidding, 
while with pale face and frightened looks the woman stood 
still and watched them. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE DEPARTURE 

f nHE three men to whom had been assigned the task of 
_|_ setting fire to the barn speedily completed their work, 
and in a few minutes the flames could be seen darting 
from its low roof. The structure was only a rude affair at 
best, but it represented much to the woman who now saw 
the property, for which she and her husband had labored 
long, going uj) in smoke. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately as Mistress Schenck had 
previously viewed it, all the live stock had long since been 
disposed of and only the building itself could now be lost. 

Mistress Schenck’ s face was hard and set, and she was 
wondering why the men in the house did not follow the 
example of their fellows and start the Are there. She was 
resolved that she would not disclose the hiding-place of 
David and Alexander until the very last. What it cost her 
to witness the wanton destruction of her possessions, and 
all for the sake of two men who were strangers to her and 
for whose worth she had nothing but their own word to 
show, no one will ever know. 

The wind blew the smoke of the burning barn away 
from the house and that fact, as well as the distance which 
separated the two, served to lessen the immediate danger 
from the flying sparks and embers ; but there was slight 
relief after all, for at any moment the leader and his two 
58 

V 



THE DEPARTURE 


59 


companions, who had not departed from the house, might 
set fire to tlie latter building. 

“Perhaps you’ll tell us now where the men are,” said 
the leader grimly, “before we go on and burn your house 
over your head.” 

“You’ll hear from Israel Schenck,” she said angrih\ 
“ He’s the man you’ll have to reckon with, that’s what you 
will.” 

“We’ll settle his case as it deserves. What we want 
now is the men you have hidden here. Will you give them 
up, or shall we go on?” 

Mistress Schenck made no reply and a moment later the 
leader said to one of his men : “Bud, you keep watch here, 
and Jack and I’ll go out to the barn. You’d better keep 
watch in front and see that no one gets away.” 

The soldier obediently took his stand as he had been 
directed and the other two men ran hastily to the burning 
barn. Their departure left for the moment one side of the 
house not exposed to their view, and it was on that side 
that the old well was. Instantly the resolute woman ran 
into the kitchen again and raising the boards which con- 
cealed David and his nephew, said quickly to them : “ Come, 
come ! Hide in the well. You’ve got only a minute. Be 
quick ! ” 

David needed no second warning, for while he had been 
unable to see what was occurring about the place he had 
heard enough to show him that they were in great dan- 
ger. Instantly responding to the summons, he assisted 
Alexander to rise, and then falling in their haste, they 
made for the well and both dropped themselves into it. 


60 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


The well was not deep and the water did not quite come 
up to their armpits ; and crouching low and leaning close 
against the stones they waited for the outcome. The water 
was cold, but its chill was forgotten in the danger which 
had threatened them and which yet was far from having 
passed. 

Mistress Schenck had watched their movements with 
breathless interest, keeping watch upon the barn which she 
could see through the open kitchen door, and was hoping 
that the men had not been seen. Still no one could tell 
whether they had been observed or not, and in her anxiety 
even the loss of the barn itself was ignored. 

Returning to her place in the kitchen she saw the leader 
and his companion coming back from the barn, and as they 
entered the room again, she said : 

“Are ye satisfied now? Fine work ye’re doin’ for King 
George, running ’round the country and settin’ fire to barns 
when the men are away from home ! I’m thinkin’ ye 
wouldn’t be up to sech works if Israel Schenck was to 
home.” 

“Will you tell us where the men are?” said the leader, 
ignoring her words. 

“Who? Israel? I’m thinking ye won’t be lookin’ for 
him with half the curiosity he’ll be lookin’ for you now.” 

“ You know whom I mean. Where are the rebels? ” 

“How should I know? I don’t keep track of Washing- 
ton’s men, I’ve told ye already three or four times. How 
many times more do ye want me to say it? ” 

“Set fire to the house!” said the man angrily, “we’ll 
smoke ’em out.” 


THE DEPARTUEE 


61 


Mistress Sclienck’s face became pale as one of the men 
at once prepared to do the leader’s bidding. Collecting a 
few pieces of light wood from the woodbox in the kitchen, 
he drew forth his flint and tinder and soon a spark fell 
upon the mass, and a little tongue of flame darted upward. 

The sight was more than the angry woman could endure 
and seizing the bucket, which still was on the floor, she 
rushed to the barrel which was standing outside the house 
and underneath the eaves to receive the rain water, and 
hastily filled it, and returning to the room, dashed the con- 
tents upon the fire which was immediately extinguished. 

“There ! ” she exclaimed, boldly facing the men as she 
spoke. “You’ve done enough now. Go ’long about your 
business and leave my house alone ! ” 

“Will you tell us where the rebels are?” demanded the 
leader, evidently not unmoved by the very boldness of the 
woman before him. 

“ I should think ye’d asked that question times enough ! ” 
retorted the enraged woman. “ Next thing ye’ll be runnin’ 
round askin’ the little helpless infants to help ye to find yer 
game. Bah ! Sech men as you aren’t fit to fight for King 
George ! This is jest the thing for you, to go to houses 
where there isn’t anybody but a woman, and then set fire 
to the barns. It’s all of a color with yer coats and yer 
noses, for they both look as if they’d been too near the 
flames. Brave soldiers you are, pickin’ on defenseless 
women ! I’ll go straight to Lord Cornwallis, that’s what I’ll 
do, and I’ll report ye ! ” 

“We don’t want to fire your home, my good worn ” 

“Well, if ye don’t want to, ye don’t have to, do ye?” 


62 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


“ No, we don’t have to ; but we have to find those rebels. 
We’ve had word that you are concealing two of them 
somewhere on your place.” 

“Who told ye?” 

“That doesn’t matter. A boy saw them last night and 
they were making inquiries as to where you lived. That’s 
enough, isn’t it? Now if you’ll tell us where they are, or 
give them up, we’ll leave you, and you’ll not suffer any 
more at our hands.” 

“I’m not so sure about the sufferin’. If 3mu’ll put the 
barn back where it was an hour ago, I might talk with ye ; 
but ye can’t do that.” 

“No, we can’t do that, but we can send the house after 
the barn, you mustn’t forget that, my good ” 

The leader hastily checked himself as he was about to 
utter the forbidden phrase ; but the change in Mistress 
Schenck’s manner had impressed him, and hopeful now 
that she would relent before further damage was inflicted, 
damage which he was reluctant to inflict, he more eagerly 
than before began to beg her to reveal the hiding-place, and 
so save herself from all further loss or injury. 

“If I tell ye, will ye then clear out and leave me?” re- 
plied Mistress Schenck, apparently somewhat moved by his 
appeal. 

“ Yes, 3"es,” said the leader still more eagerly. 

“ Well then, I don’t mind tellin’ ye that they were here. 
There were two of ’em, and one was pretty badly hurt in 
the head.” 

“Yes, yes, they’re the very ones ! That’s just what the 
boy said.” 


THE DEPARTURE 


63 


“They came here last night and I took ’em in. They 
slept upstairs in my front room. You can go upstairs now 
and see the bed for yourselves if ye want to.” 

“ No ; no. Go on. Where are they now ? ” 

“They was here last night as I was a tellin’ ye. They 
stayed in my house all night, but they left this mornin’.” 

Mistress Schenck did not feel called upon to explain 
just at what time they departed from her dwelling, nor 
where they were at that time. The deception may be par- 
doned. 

At any rate she felt justified, and when she told the truth 
did not feel called upon to tell the whole truth. 

“And you say they left your house this morning? Are 
you speaking truly ? ” 

“ Am I speakin’ truly ? Well, I should say I was.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me this long ago ? We didn’t want 
to burn your buildings ; but when we are searching for 
rebels we can’t always stand on what we want to do, but 
have to use means sometimes that we don’t like. We’ve 
got the rebellion almost crushed now, and must follow up 
our advantage in every way.” 

The leader was apparently mollified and perhaps his 
heart smote him for the destruction which had been 
wrought by his command. But the time of war is not one 
when the best elements in life are in control, and the 
leader of the searching party was not above his fellows on 
either side in that terrible struggle of our fathers. 

“ Which way did they go?” he inquired a moment after- 
wards. ^ 

“They went out this door,” said the woman pointing to 


64 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


the one through which David and Alexander had made 
their exit. 

There still remained the danger that they might look into 
the old w^ell again, but as they had once examined it, Mis- 
tress Schenck was hoping they would now pass it by. But 
with all her efforts to appear calm, and apparently to be 
yielding to the demands of her visitors, her heart was 
oppressed by a great fear, for she knew that if the rebels ” 
should be discovered now it would not fare well with them. 

The leader hesitated a moment and then said: ‘‘They 
must have doubled on our tracks; but weTl get them, I 
have no fear. I was afraid they might go down to the shore 
and find some way of crossing, and then they’d have been 

beyond us. I say, my good 1 mean,” he hastily added, 

“can you give me and my men some breakfast?” 

“I can give ye some baked potatoes. That’s all the 
brave soldiers of King George have left me.” 

“ Never mind, then. We’ll get something farther up the 
country. Besides, we mustn’t waste any more time here. 
I regret the loss we w’ere compelled to inflict upon you,” he 
added. Apparently his good-nature had returned now, and 
he was -willing to depart in peace. 

Mistress Schenck made no reply. She was eager for the 
visitors to be gone so that she might release David and his 
suffering nephew from their hiding-place in the well. 
Though the day was warm, she well knew that the water 
was cold, and as they had been confined there now for up- 
ward of two hours, their plight must be a sad one. 

The leader at once assembled his men and held a brief 
consultation with them. Mistress Schenck could not hear 


THE DEPARTURE 


65 


their conversation, but striving to appear indifferent, she 
busied herself in her household duties and awaited their 
departure with an eagerness she could barely restrain. 

In a few minutes the consultation was ended, the leader 
summoned his men and after bidding the woman good- 
morning, and again expressing his regret that he had been 
compelled to do what he had done that morning, he passed 
out of the house. 

They did not stop by the well ; but to the consternation 
of the “good woman,” she perceived that one of his men 
had been left behind, and that with his gun in his hands, 
he had already taken his seat in the kitchen, and seemed 
to be inclined to make himself very much at home. 


E 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE RETURN OF ISRAEL 

M istress SCHENCK’S consternation when she beheld 
her unwelcome guest, in a measure betrayed itself in 
her manner and caused the soldier to laugh not ill- 
naturedly. 

“I couldn’t bear to tear myself away from such good 
company,” he said, as he stretched his long legs and 
yawned. 

The woman’s eyes snapped and a sharp retort rose to her 
lips, but by an effort she controlled her feelings and only 
scowled at her visitor. She was, however, thinking more 
of the prisoners in the well than she was of anything else 
at the time. They had been in the cold water longer now 
than was good for them, and how much longer they could 
remain there was a question she could not solve. Some- 
thing ought to be done for them and at once, but she could 
not think of a way out of her difficulty. 

“ ’Twas just as well I was left behind,” resumed the sol- 
dier. “ I can tell by your actions that I’m not the only 
one here. Those men we are after must be hidden some- 
where hereabouts, and I don’t believe they are in very com- 
fortable quarters either. I’ll stay it out, old lady, and I’m 
certain if they can stand it where they are, I ought to 
where I am,” and again the soldier leisurely stretched him- 
self as he spoke. 

66 


THE RETURN OF ISRAEL 


67 


“Ye needn’t call me ‘old lady,’” retorted Mistress 
Schenck sharply. “ I guess I know my own age and 
don’t need any o’ King George’s hireling soldiers to tell 
me that.” 

Still it was evident that she was not thinking of the sol- 
dier’s words, and her manner could not entirely conceal her 
anxiety. Something must be done, she kept repeating to 
herself, but still no plan of action presented itself, in which 
respect Mistress Schenck was not unlike other people of her 
own times and of others, who think they have done their 
full duty in pointing out defects and emphasizing what 
ought to be done, but in no wise are able to suggest the 
method by which the desired action can be brought to 
pass. 

Her own immediate problem was solved for her, however, 
in a manner as unexpected as it was welcome. Glancing 
through the open doorway she suddenly perceived her hus- 
band and four of his companions coming up the road to- 
ward the house, and she knew at once that help was at 
hand. 

“There comes Israel!” she exclaimed to the soldier. 
“You’d better not let him catch you here. He’d make 
short work of you, let me tell you.” 

“Israel? Who’s Israel?” laughed the soldier. “Let 
him come. Perhaps he’s the very man I’m waiting for.” 

Nevertheless he rose from his chair, and approaching the 
door looked out in the direction indicated by the woman. 
Apparently the sight of the men interested him deeply, for 
after gazing at them a moment he hastily returned to his 
seat, quickly grasped his gun and darted through the other 


68 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


door in the kitchen, and began to run swiftly toward the 
road in the distance. 

“Hold on, can’t ye?” called Mistress Schenck from the 
doorway after the fleeing redcoat. “ What’s yer hurry ? 
Can’t ye stay awhile and be sociable like? I thought ye 
said ye was very comfortable here. Israel’s cornin’, and 
ye said he might be the very man ye were waitin’ to see. 
Why don’t ye stay an’ And out? Israel’s got a warmer 
heart than his wife, an’ he’d do all in his power to make 
ye feel to home.” 

But the soldier did not stop. He ran as if he was trying 
to make a record, and soon disappeared from her sight in 
the woods which lay between her and the distant road. 

Instantly recalled by his departure to the predicament of 
her friends in the well. Mistress Schenck ran swiftly to the 
curb and peered over into the depths. At first she could 
not perceive any one, and there was a great fear in her 
heart that, wearied as they were, they might have lost con- 
sciousness and been drowned in the water. 

“Where are ye? Where are ye?” she called, leaning 
far over and peering down into the well. 

“ Here we are. Is it all safe now ? ” 

She could see David’s head close to the stones, and could 
also perceive that he was holding Alexander in his arms, 
and endeavoring to keep the lad’s face above the water. 
The man’s teeth were chattering with the cold, and it was 
evident that he was almost exhausted. 

“Yes, it’s safe now,” hastily replied Mistress Schenck. 
“The redcoats are gone and Israel is coinin’. We’ll have 
you out o’ there in no time now.” 


THE RETURN OF ISRAEL 


69 


“ Hurry up, then ! I can’t stand it much longer.” 

“ I won’t wait for the men to come. Look out, now, and 
I’ll let the bucket down. Can ye hold on while I pull ye 
out?” 

“ I don’t know. I’ll try.” 

Mistress Schenck quickly lifted the long, heavy sweep, 
and then carefully and slowly let the bucket descend into 
the well. 

“Got it?” she called, when it had descended the proper 
depth. 

“Yes, I’ve got it. Hold on a minute. There, it’s all 
right now. Go ahead and pull us out. Can you do it ? ” 

The woman began to lift on the long pole to which the 
bucket was adjusted. The load was heavy, but steadily and 
sturdily she pulled, bracing her feet against the curb and 
exerting all her strength. Up and up came the burden, 
but when about half the ascent had been made, suddenly 
the weight was removed, and the men fell back into the 
water with a splash, while the woman was thrown upon 
her back to the ground and the well-sweep jerked the 
bucket noisily to the surface. 

Quickly rising again, the resolute woman prepared to re- 
new the attempt, when Israel and his companions came 
around the corner of the house. 

“What’s the trouble, Samantha?” demanded her hus- 
band as he perceived her excitement. “Lost the bucket 
again?” 

“No, I haven’t lost the bucket again ! ” snapped Israel’s 
wife. “What ye standin’ there for? Why don’t ye come 
an’ help me? If that isn’t jest like a man for all the 


70 


A PEISONER IN BUFF 


world, stoppin’ at a good safe distance an’ askin’ me what’s 
the trouble ! Why don’t ye come an’ help me ? ” 

“Of course we’ll help you, Samantha. What ye lost 
down the well? ” 

“Nothin’s lost. I’m tryin’ to help these men out, that’s 
what I’m doin’.” ' 

“Men ! Men ! What men ? ” exclaimed Israel, running 
quickly to her assistance. 

“ Was there ever such a critter as a man? Don’t stop to 
ask who they be, jest take hold here an’ help ’em out,” she 
exclaimed. 

But Israel and his companions needed no incentive now. 
All of them were on the well curb and peering down into 
the depths. They could plainly see the two men there, and 
in a moment Israel called down : 

“ We’ll let the bucket down again. Take a good grip on 
it, and we’ll have you out in no time.” 

The bucket was speedily lowered, but again David failed 
in his attempt to cling to it and at the same time hold to 
his helpless companion. 

“I can’t do it,” he called. “Haven’t you got a rope 
I can use?” 

“ Hold on a minute and we’ll see,” replied Israel. 

But Israel’s wife had already perceived the necessity and 
was now coming from the house with a coil of rope in her 
hands. One of the men speedily adjusted the end to him- 
self, knotting it firmly under his arms, and w’as then low- 
ered into the well by his companions. 

After a brief delay he hailed the men above and was 
drawn to the surface, holding the helpless Alexander tightly 



Page 70. 


“Aftera trief delay he was drawn to the surface.” 



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THE RETURN OF ISRAEL 


71 


clasped in his arms. In spite of David’s protestations that 
he could come up alone if the rope were lowered to him, 
the man again went down and was soon brought up with 
David this time held in his embrace. 

They formed a strange group that stood for a moment by 
the old well. Alexander was hardly able to stand and his 
teeth were chattering with the cold in spite of the fact that 
it was a warm August day. David, still without a coat, also 
was thoroughly chilled, though he was not so weak as his 
nephew. Israel Schenck, huge of frame, his great face al- 
most covered with hair, stood glancing from one to another 
as if he failed to understand the meaning of it all. His 
companions, as rugged of countenance as he, were quiet 
and waiting for their leader to speak. And in the midst 
of them all was Samantha, Israel’s wife, her eyes snapping 
in her excitement, and her hands ministering to the wants 
of Alexander, whose arms she was chafing and so helping 
to warm the exhausted boy. 

Suddenly and for the first time Israel caught sight of the 
smoking ruins of the little barn which had been burned in 
his absence, and in his deep, gruff voice he demanded : 

“ Who set the barn afire, Samantha? ” 

“The men.” 

“ Wliat men? These men ? ” And Israel glared at David 
and Alexander as if he would wreak vengeance upon them. 

“ No, no. The redcoats. Help me take this boy into the 
house an’ I’ll tell ye all about it. If that isn’t jest like a 
man for all the world ! ” 

“ Help her with these fellows,” said Israel roughly to his 
followers, “ an’ I’ll go out an’ take a look at things.” 


72 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


He departed at once for the ruins, while his compan- 
ions assisted the men, whom they had just released from 
the well, into the house. There a change of clothing was 
speedily found for them and they had returned to the 
kitchen to take the warm drinks which Mistress Schenck 
had provided, when Israel himself entered the room. His 
face was black with anger and his glance at his two guests 
was one which caused even David to be alarmed. 

“Now, Samantha, you tell me about that fire, first thing 
ye do,” demanded her husband. 

However great the fear of her guests might be it was evi- 
dent that Samantha was not alarmed at her husband’s 
anger. “You sit down, Israel Schenck, and as soon as I’ve 
tended to this boy I’ll answer yer questions,” she said. 

Her tongue was not silent, however, for as she ministered 
to the lad’s wants she graphically described the events of 
the preceding night. Her husband and his companions 
listened eagerly and when her story was ended, David said 
quickly : 

“I regret more than I can tell you that you should have 
suffered the loss of your barn on our account ; but I can 
assure you that it will be more than made up to you. My 
sister, this lad’s mother,” he added, pointing to Alexander, 
“ will be more than glad to see that you have a better one 
as soon as she learns of your misfortune.” 

“ Who’s a talkin’ about our misfortune, I’d like to 
know?” demanded Mistress Schenck sharply. “I guess if 
other men are willing to stand up afore the bullets of the 
redcoats, that neither Israel Schenck nor his wife is a goin’ 
to whine ’cause this old barn’s gone up in smoke.” 


THE RETURN OF ISRAEL 


73 


“ Samantha’s right ; she is most every time,” said Israel 
in his deepest tone. “Then, you were in the battle, were 
you? ” he added. 

“ Yes,” replied David ; and for a time other matters were 
forgotten as he described the action of that famous twenty- 
seventh of August, 1776. 

“What’s yer plan now? What ye goin’ to do next?” 
demanded Israel at last. 

“That’s more’ll I can say,” said David gloomily. “If it 
wasn’t for this lad here,” and he laid his hand on Alexan- 
der’s shoulder as he spoke, “I’d try to make my way back 
to Brooklyn Heights where the Continentals rallied.” 

“But there isn’t a Continental there,” said Israel. 

For a moment David stared blankly at the man as if he 
almost doubted his word ; but as Israel began to speak 
again he perceived that he knew whereof he spoke. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE STORY OF THE RETREAT 

“ \7ES, sir,” repeated Israel. “I’m tellin’ what’s true as 
the gospel. There isn’t one o’ Washington’s men left 
on the Heights. I think I ought to know something 
about it too, seeing that I was one of those who helped to 
ferry ’em across the river last night.” Israel paused a mo- 
ment, as if he would permit the effect of his words to sink 
deep into the hearts of his hearers. 

If that was his purpose he succeeded admirably, for David 
was staring at him, and even the youthful Alexander roused 
himself at the words and showed his interest, while Saman- 
tha’s eyes snapped as she listened to her husband. 

Apparently she was least of all able to restrain her curi- 
osity, and breaking in upon the silence, she demanded 
sharply; “Why don’t ye go on an’ tell us about it, then? 
If a man isn’t the most provokin’ of all creatures, unless it 
is a hen. Why don’t ye speak up, Israel Schenck, and say 
what ye know, instead o’ keeping us here a w’aitin’ for us 
to pick it out o’ ye, word for word? That isn’t the way I 
do with you when I’ve been away from home and come 
back plumb full o’ news ; I just tell everything I’ve got to 
say, that’s the way I do, and you know it too, Israel.” 

“Yes, I know you do,” responded her husband mildly. 
“ ’Tisn’tmuch you ever keep back, Samantha, when you’ve 
got any news to give.” 

74 . 


THE STORY OF THE RETREAT 


75 


“Jest hear the man ! Anybody’d think I was a woman 
given to talkin’, when everybody knows I never say half 
I could say if I wanted to. Nobody ever’ 11 know what 
I’ve had to put up with along with Israel Schenck. He’s 
the glummest man in the whole o’ Long Island.” 

And yet in spite of her sharp words, it was evident that 
Israel Schenck’ s wife was devoted to her husband’s welfare, 
and that she was as proud of him as was any woman in 
all the Colonies of the man whose name she bore. 

“Samantha’s bark’s a sight worse than her bite,” re- 
marked Israel apologetically to his hearers; “but I don’t 
mind tollin’ ye that it’s reported hereabouts that Israel 
Schenck owns one or two o’ the swiftest whaleboats along 
the sound, an’ that he’s got a sloop what nothing in a fair 
wind can overhaul. Mind you, I’m notsayin’ whether the 
report’s true or not, for ye can find that out from those who 
think they know all about it. But whether it’s true or not, 
I can tell ye for a fact that G. Washington got every boat 
he could lay hands on last night — scow, sloop, rowboat, 
yacht, yawl, fishing smack, whaleboat, tub, anything and 
everything he could lay hands on, and now somehow his 
men are on the New York side.” 

“But that’s where Washington was all the time,” inter- 
rupted David. “He wasn’t on Long Island during the 
battle. I don’t see what you mean when you say he crossed 
over with the men in all these crafts you mention. He 
wasn’t with the men on the island at all during the fight.” 

“That may be as ye say,” replied Israel good-naturedly ; 
“but that doesn’t mean that he couldn’t come over after 


the battle, does it? ” 


76 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


“No; but did he?” 

“ He did that. In the night G. Washington himself, 
along with about two thousand o’ the buffcoats crossed over 
to the Heights, and when he got there it made about ten 
thousand men, all told, behind the works, or so I’ve been 
informed.” 

“If you ain’t the most provokin’ o’ mortals then I’m no 
judge,” interrupted his wife. “What do ye go into all the 
details for? Why don’t ye jest speak right up an’ tell us 
how Washington and the Continentals got across the river, 
if ye know anything about it?” 

Thus bidden, Israel related the story of the escape of the 
American army from Long Island, a story which has be- 
come famous, and is doubtless well known by our readers. 
Soon after the news of the loss of the battle had been re- 
ceived by General Washington, who was still in New York, 
he had hastily crossed in the night to the aid of his stricken 
comrades-in-arms. Behind the earthworks on Brooklyn 
Heights some ten thousand of the rugged Continentals, de- 
feated, but not yet despairing, were there assembled. , 

The British had gained the victory in the fight, but with 
that number of their enemies still on the island, the contest 
was far from complete. As soon as Washington arrived, he 
at once began to make everything ready to resist an attack. 
At the time people wondered that Howe should not have 
followed up his success, and at once have stormed the 
Heights. But the British leader was both too wise and too 
humane a man to make the attempt. He was too wise, be- 
cause the lesson of Bunker Hill was not yet forgotten. Had 
he attempted to storm the place it is now thought he would 


THE STORY OF THE RETREAT 


77 


have met a terrible defeat, for the advantage would have 
been wholly with those who occupied the higher ground. 
Doubtless there was nothing Washington so much desired 
at the time as that the British should make that very move ; 
but, as has been said, Howe was too wise a leader to be 
caught in such a trap. 

He was also too humane, though it is a question whether 
from his point of view' his very kindness of heart was always 
the part of wisdom. It was w'ell known that he bitterly op- 
posed the struggle, and w'as striving by every means in his 
power to put an end to the bloodshed and bring about peace. 
Some have found great fault with Howe because, after the 
battle of Long Island, he permitted his adversary to escape 
so easily from his hands ; but the fault, if fault it was, was 
due much more to his heart than to his head. 

He W'as hoping that the blow which had just been struck 
would Aveaken the determination of those obstinate Ameri- 
cans and permit the return of peace. Indeed, it was not 
long after this very time when he sent the captured General 
Sullivan to Congress to declare that Lord Howe had strong 
hopes of inducing Parliament to repeal the acts which had 
so aroused the colonists, and that he himself w'ould like to 
meet a committee from Congress, not as members of a 
body which he could not formally recognize, but as gentle- 
men, and they could then confer as to the present troubles 
and doubtless find some way out that w^ould be satisfactory 
to all, and end the w'arfare and bloodshed. 

As has been said, doubtless Lord Plow'e was sincere in his 
desire and wanted nothing so much as he did the return of 
peaceful relations between the struggling Colonies and their 


78 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


mother country ; but he failed sadly to understand the 
temper of the men who opposed him, and who perhaps 
were not entirely blameless themselves. 

At all events, when General Sullivan appeared with his 
message before Congress, there followed a scene such as has 
seldom been witnessed in that body since that day. Some 
in their rage were even ready to charge the brave Sullivan 
himself with treachery in daring to come before them with 
such a proposal, a charge as cruel as it was baseless ; but 
then, we must remember that in times of war seldom are 
the best parts of our nature in the foreground. War, it is 
true, may be necessary at times, but however great the 
bravery and heroism called forth in such crises, they are 
apt to be accompanied by other qualities as bad as these 
are good. 

And even the American Congress in the trying days of 
’76 was not an exception. As the anger of the members 
became hotter, as the debate waxed warm over the proposal 
which General Sullivan had brought from Lord Howe, some 
of them openly spoke of the “ insult ” offered them ; others, 
equally bold, referred to the “ treachery ” ; while still others 
spoke of and to Sullivan as a “decoy duck.” Indeed, it 
was John Adams himself who applied that term. 

At last, after a stormy time, it was voted that no notice 
whatever should be given any proposals of peace which 
Lord Howe or any other Englishman might make, unless 
they were in writing and should be addressed to Congress 
as the legal representatives of the newly formed American 
States. 

However, it was finally decided to make an exception in 


THE 'story of the RETREAT 


79 


the present case, and a committee of three was sent to 
Staten Island to confer with the British leader. Franklin, 
Rutledge, and J ohn Adams made up the committee, and they 
were very kindly entertained by Lord Howe ; but although 
he was very gracious in his manner and very sincere in his 
desire to have bloodshed cease, the committee were in no 
mood to listen to any suggestions which did not recognize 
the independence of the Colonies first of all, and so the con- 
ference came to an end without anything having been 
accomplished. 

Lord Howe, who, as it is now known, was really a sincere 
friend to the Americans, was bitterly grieved at the out- 
come of what he had hoped would prove to be a solution of 
the difficulties ; and soon after, upon his own authority, so 
eager was he for peace, issued a general proclamation in 
which he announced the intentions of his government to 
reconsider the various acts against which the Americans 
had rebelled, and then appealed to the sense of justice in 
all whether it was not better to trust his solemn promise 
than to continue a struggle which was so unequal and which 
could only bring sorrow and suffering to all, while its final 
outcome could never for a moment be questioned. 

Doubtless there was a Higher Power at work which 
caused even the wrath of men to praise him, and in spite 
of the passions of the people was planning for a new nation 
in the Western world. At all events, both Howe’s plea and 
proclamation failed of their desired effect and the bitter 
struggle was to continue. But these events are slightly in 
advance of our story. 

When Washington perceived that Howe did not intend 


80 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


to storm Brooklyn Heights, but was planning a siege, he 
knew that he himself must act at once. The British troops 
now invested him in a semi-circle, and eagerly as he would 
have hailed an attempt by them to storm his position, none 
knew better than he that he was not fitted to withstand a 
siege. At any moment now the British ships might com- 
plete the circle and so effectually cut off the American 
forces both from retreat and aid. 

Quickly the energetic Washington sent his messengers 
across the river and along the sound, and, as Israel Schenck 
had declared, collected every form of a craft which might 
be of service in that time of need. 

On the night of August twenty-ninth, these boats were 
all at Brooklyn Ferry and the work was begun. The most 
of them were placed in charge of the fishermen from Mar- 
blehead and Gloucester, who were enrolled in Glover’s Es- 
sex regiment, and who from their earliest boyhood had 
been accustomed to the use of oars and sails. 

All through the hours of the night the boats were plying 
back and forth across the river. Quietly and in good order 
the troops embarked and George Washington himself stood 
by the shore and watched and directed all. At last in the 
early light of the following morning, when not only the 
troops, but the cannon, ammunition, small arms, tools, and 
even the horses had been ferried across, then the great 
commander himself departed from the Long Island shore. 

In the early part of the night the moon had been shining, 
but as the night advanced a fog had crept over the Sound 
and wrapped all within its folds. It seems strange now that 
the British should not have discovered the retreat of the 


THE STORY OF THE RETREAT 


81 


Americans ; but probably it was the last thing in their 
thoughts that their enemies, whom they had at last securely 
cornered, as they thought, should have conceived and ex- 
ecuted so bold a movement. 

But they were gone and the bulk of Washington’s army 
was stationed along the Harlem River before Howe was 
aware that the Heights had been abandoned and “ the fox ” 
had escaped him. It was a masterly achievement, and 
nothing in all the career of the great man has reflected 
greater honor upon him or upon the nation which is proud 
to claim him as its own. 

What the effect of the recital of these events was upon 
David may w^ell be imagined. For a long time the excite- 
ment banished all other thoughts from his mind, but at last 
Samantha asserted herself, a scanty meal was provided, and 
all save David and the woman retired to rest. 

David was left to guard the place and give warning of the 
approach of danger, but his thoughts were soon turned 
sharply from the escape which Washington made to his 
own immediate situation. 


F 


CHAPTER X 


A PERPLEXING PROBLEM 

O ccasionally David went out of the house and made 
a tour of the grounds, but nothing to alarm him was 
discovered, and when he re-entered the kitchen and 
seated himself in the low chair it was to resume his inter- 
rupted meditations. The news that the army was now 
along the bank of the Harlem made him eager to rejoin his 
companions, but the problem of what to do with Alexander 
still stood in his way. 

The lad was in no condition to go with him if he should 
go back to the army ; but on the other hand it was out of 
the question to think of sending him back to his mother in 
Philadelphia. Even if the journey could be made success- 
fully, which in itself was a question of no mean proportions, 
it was more than doubtful whether in his present weakened 
condition the lad would be able to endure the exertion. To 
leave him with the kind-hearted though sharp-tongued wife 
of Israel Schenck and her husband was also not to be 
thought of. Already they had suffered the loss of one of 
their farm buildings because of Alexander’s presence in 
their home, and to impose the additional danger of further 
attacks, as well as of the care which the suffering boy would 
require, for a time at least, was not to be considered. 

When the light of the early dawn at last appeared, Israel 
Schenck himself came down the stairs and gruffly ordered 
82 


A PERPLEXING PROBLEM 


83 


David to go up into the room where Alexander was, and 
secure some rest before the work of the day began. 

To David’s remonstrance the huge captain would not 
listen for a moment, and somewhat reluctantly the soldier 
yielded, and soon stretched himself beside his nephew, who 
was still sleeping soundly, and breathing in a manner which 
did much to reassure his troubled young uncle. 

Three hours afterward David was summoned to join the 
company below, and rushing hastily down the stairway he 
perceived that it was broad daylight, and that the others 
already had had their breakfast. Alexander also had joined 
them, and his improved appearance for a moment led David 
to think that the lad might be able to accompany him to 
the city, but a more careful look soon disclosed the con- 
tinued weakness of the young soldier, and David’s heart 
sank once more as he realized that his own perplexing 
problem was as far from solution as ever. 

“I’ll have yer breakfast for ye in a minute,” said Samantha 
briskly, as she bustled about the room. “Ye must be 
hungry by this time.” 

David thanked her for her kindness, but made no other 
reply. Israel was the only man besides himself and Alex- 
ander in the room, and wondering what had become of the 
others, David soon seated himself at the table and began to 
eat the breakfast his hostess had prepared for him. 

“ What’s the trouble ?” demanded Israel, as he perceived 
his guest’s troubled manner. “Are ye tired out with yer 
long tramp?” 

“No ; I don’t feel as tired as I expected to.” 

“That’s good, fer ye’re likely to have need of all the 


84 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


strength ye’ve got afore the day’s done. Leastwise I’m 
fearful ye may.” 

“Why? What’s wrong? Have you heard anything 
more?” demanded David quietly, pausing in his occupa- 
tion and glancing at the huge captain as he spoke. 

“No; nothing particular; only my men have all gone 
home to see how their families are making out, and inci- 
dentally to pick up such news as they can get. I’m only 
thinking of things in general, ye see ; and judgin’ from 
what’s happened of late, we haven’t seen the end yet by 
any manner o’ means, I’m thinkin’.” 

“You Israel Schenck, leave that poor man alone till he’s 
had a chance to eat his victuals ! If that isn’t just like a 
man to come along an’ spoil a breakfast with his croakin’s.” 

“He isn’t spoiling my breakfast. I’m sure it would re- 
quire more than any words of warning to spoil such an ex- 
cellent meal as you have prepared for me, Mistress Schenck,” 
said David. “We can talk while we’re eating, and there 
are many things to be talked over to-day.” 

Mollified by the compliment of her guest the busy wmman 
did not again interrupt them, and David, his mind filled 
with the thoughts of his own problem, could not long re- 
main silent. 

“I’m sadly troubled,” he said, “to know’ what to do 
next.” 

“What ‘next’ do you mean, man?” demanded Israel, 
looking up quickly, while Samantha paused in her occupa- 
tion and peered kindly at David. 

“ Why, what am I to do now ? The news you have brought 
me that the Continentals are on the bank of the Harlem 


A PERPLEXING PROBLEM 


85 


has made me eager to join them, but there are two things 
that stand in the way, I’m afraid.” 

“ What two things might they be?” said Israel’s wife. 

“How I’m to get to the city, and what I’m to do with 
my nephew.” 

“Well, they are easy enough to settle,” said the woman 
before her husband could speak. 

“I don’t see how.” 

“You’re jest like a man too ! You couldn’t see through 
a needle with a haystack in it. I mean a millstone with a 
hole in it,” and the woman’s eyes glistened as she spoke, 
though David could not have told whether it was from sym- 
pathy or from her disgust that he should so closely resemble 
that part of humanity against which Israel Schenck’s wife 
appeared to cherish an especial grudge. Accordingly he 
held his peace, and the deep voice of the captain broke in : 

“You mustn’t mind Samantha. I told ye her bark was 
worse than her bite. She’s as full o’ sympathy fer ye as an 
egg is o’ meat, only it’s jest her way, that’s all. I’ve known 
her nigh onto thirty year, and a better woman isn’t to be 
found the length o’ the shore o’ Long Island.” 

“Ain’t you ashamed o’ yerself, Israel Schenck, to be 
talkin’ such stuff right afore company?” retorted Saman- 
tha ; but the softened expression in her eyes betrayed the 
fact that she was not unmoved by the evident affection of 
her gruff- voiced husband. 

“ I can readily believe what you say,” said David kindly, 
although it was not just clear to him how the fact promised 
a way out of his present predicament, and his main 
thoughts were just now centered upon that. 


86 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


“We’ve been talkin’ the matter over,” broke in the 
woman again, “ whilst you’ve been upstairs asleep, and 
we’ve got it all settled.” 

“ Settled? ” said David. “ I don’t see what you mean.” 

“ Why don’t you explain yourself, Israel Schenck ? ” she 
demanded sharply of her husband. “If that isn’t jest like 
a man for all the world ! Sittin’ up there like a bump on a 
log, when you know as well as I do, ye ought to have ex- 
plained the whole thing long ago.” Samantha’s kindly ex- 
pression belied her sharp words, and the manner in which 
she beamed upon her husband left no doubt in David’s 
mind as to the relative merits of her “bark” and her 
“ bite,” to which Israel Schenck had so repeatedly referred. 

“It seems to us,” said Israel slowly, “that the best 
thing for you to do is to leave the lad here for a time. Now 
as I told ye, I’ve got a boat or two down on the shore, 
or that’s what folks say, an’ when my men come back, I 
shouldn’t be a bit surprised if some way was found to get ye 
over to the Harlem. Then ye can leave the boy here, an’ Sa- 
mantha will look after him a spell, an’ jest as soon’s he’s fit 
to join ye, why, the same boat that took you over can fetch 
him along later. An’ there ye’ll be, as good as ever, an’ 
both o’ ye back among the Continentals, safe and sound.” 

For a moment David did not speak. He was strongly 
moved by the offer of the good people, but several reasons 
quickly presented themselves why it would not be wise to 
accept. At last he said gently : 

“It’s kind of you to offer to do so much for us. We’ve 
already brought trouble and loss, though the latter I shall 
hope to make up to you ” 


A PERPLEXING PROBLEM 


87 


“What ye talkin’ about?” demanded Samantha shortly. 
“ If ye say another word like that, out ye go, bag and bag- 
gage.” 

David was not deceived now by her brusque manner and 
could readily see that her kind heart was strongly moved. 
Deeply stirred himself, he said: “I’m sure I appreciate 
your kindness, but eager as I am to join the army again, I 
don’t see how I can leave my nephew. His mother placed 
him in my care, and she would never forgive me for aban- 
doning him ; and besides, it is not in my heart to do so,” 
and he glanced affectionately at Alexander as he spoke. 

“No. You think you’ll help that boy stayin’ here an’ 
waitin’ for the redcoats to come and get you both. That’s 
jest like a man, I must say ! ” 

“But they’ll be just as likely to come if I’m not here 
and then they’ll get Alexander.” 

“Better get one than two. But I’m tellin’ ye, it isn’t 
nowise sure they’ll be here again. After coinin’ once 
they’ll think you’ll clear out. Now if only the boy’s here 
I can look after him ; but when there’s two of you, how 
am I to look after ye both, I’d like to know ? If anything 
should happen that they did come, which isn’t likely, I’m 
thinkin’, why I can tuck him up in bed, an’ with that 
head o’ his all black an’ blue, they won’t need much per- 
suadin’ to believe he’s an invalid, an’ what’s more they 
won’t want to add any to their sick prisoners either, I’m 
sure.” 

“You mustn’t forget that the army needs every man 
now,” broke in Israel. “And I don’t mind sayin’ that I 
think I can promise ye that every day or two you can have 


88 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


word how the young man’s doin’. Oh, I’m not explainin’ 
all the whys and wherefores ; ye’ll jest have to trust Israel 
Schenck for that, but it’s true what I’m tellin’ you. An’ 
besides all that, in my opinion this young chap will pick 
up faster here than he possibly could do in the army, which 
has its hands pretty full now, if all reports are true, and I 
don’t believe it would be a week’s time before he would 
join you in New York.” 

“ You’d better do it. Uncle Dave,” said Alexander softly. 
“I’ll be all right here in the hands of this good woman 
” he suddenly stopped and laughed, the first time Da- 
vid had seen a smile on his face since the battle, as he 
heard a snort of apparent anger come from the sink over 
which the “ good woman ” was bending. 

David hesitated and then yielded, much to the delight of 
the worthy couple. 

A careful watch was maintained throughout the day, and 
by the middle of the afternoon all of Israel’s companions 
had returned and were ready for the venture. 

Samantha steadily refused the offer of money which Da- 
vid made her, and then after a tender farewell and com- 
mitting his nephew^ to her hands, the young Continental 
joined the men who were now about to depart. A coarse 
blouse had taken the place of David’s lost coat, and in ap- 
pearance he did not differ much from his sturdy comrades. 

They had gone but a few yards down the lane when they 
were stopped by a hail from Samantha. Glancing back 
they could see her standing in the doorway, and as she per- 
ceived that her call had been heeded, she said : 

“ Here, you, Israel Schenck, don’t you get shot ! ’ 


A PERPLEXING PROBLEM 


89 


“I’ll try not to,” replied her husband with a laugh. 

“Leastwise, don’t ye get shot in the back !” she called 
once more, and then darted quickly into the house and 
closed the door behind her. 

“She’s the best woman along this shore,” said Israel 
shortly. “Now if we’re lucky enough to dodge all them 
British patrol boats, we’ll be all right,” he added. “If 
they catch the ‘Samantha’ they’ll have to look sharp, 
that’s all I say.” 

David concluded that Israel must have named his sloop 
for his wife, and wondering what kind of a craft she was 
and what perils lay before them, he kept on with his com- 
panions toward the shore, all unaware of the bitter tears 
which the human Samantha was shedding in her fear and 
loneliness in her deserted home. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE SAIL IN THE NIGHT 

T he men all became silent as they resumed their march 
and no one spoke until they had arrived at a spot on 
the shore which David judged, from their actions, 
must be a familiar place to them. But he could see no 
signs of the sloop and began to think they had not yet come 
to the end of the journey. 

The waters of Long Island Sound spread out before him 
calm and motionless. Not a sail was within sight, and as 
far as appearances went nothing to alarm them could be 
seen. The summer sun was now low in the western sky, 
and the long shafts of light as they fell across the waters 
colored it here and there with the brightest of hues. The 
little waves at his feet rippled as they rose and fell, and 
seemed to strengthen the assurance of peace and protec- 
tion. 

Only a few miles distant was the American army, badly 
rent, it was true, by the fierce contest of the twenty-seventh, 
but still resolute and determined, and led by men even more 
firm of purpose than the soldiers themselves. In a few 
hours, if all went well, he would again be with his com- 
rades in arms, David thought, and now that he was satisfied 
that his nephew was in good hands, and doubtless would 
be able to come to him in a very few days, all his eagerness 
to be in the army once more returned with redoubled force. 
90 


THE SAIL IN THE NIGHT 


91 


Apparently Israel Schenck and his men did not share in 
his hopes or confidence. In spite of the quiet scene, they 
acted now with increased caution. The leader held a brief 
consultation with his men, but it was in such a low tone of 
voice that David was unable to hear what was said. Soon, 
however, he saw two of the men leave the others, and one 
ran along the beach while the other darted into the woods 
and was soon concealed from his sight. 

“Is there anything wrong?” he inquired anxiously of 
Israel, as the leader returned to the place where David was 
standing. 

“No, nothing particular,” replied Israel, though David 
thought he perceived that the gruff- voiced captain was 
troubled more than he cared to show. “No,” repeated 
Israel as he beckoned to the men who had been left behind, 
and with them and David withdrew a short distance from 
the beach. “ We haven’t seen anything yet to scare us, but 
you never can tell what’s goin’ on. Ye have to look out 
and provide for what’s likely to come afore it gets here. 
Leastwise that’s always been my rule, and I don’t think it’s 
a good time to break in upon it yet.” 

“It’s a good rule, anyway,” replied David. 

“ So it is ; so it is,” said Israel, almost as if he was speak- 
ing to himself. “ We’ll sit down here and wait,” he added, 
as he seated himself in a secluded place, from which he 
could look out over the water and still remain concealed 
himself, an example which all his companions were quick 
to follow. 

A careful watch was maintained, but not a sail was seen. 
The sun had disappeared from sight now and the sand- 


92 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


piper’s notes sounded shrill and clear, while the low-flying 
gulls, as they circled about before them, uttered cries that^ 
were plaintive and almost weird in the oncoming night. 
Somehow the actions of Israel Schenck, the gloom of the 
sunset, and above all, the mournful notes of the seabirds, 
combined to produce a feeling of depression in David’s 
heart. He had a sense of coming danger which, strive as 
he would, he could not entirely shake off. 

Again and again he declared to himself that all his fears 
were baseless, but good as were his arguments, the fears 
still remained, and the worst of it all appeared to be that 
he was not the only one to be suffering under forebodings 
of ill. 

“ There are a lot of men like me along both shores of the 
sound,” said Israel at last, breaking in upon the silence. 
“Afore the war we worked a little patch o’ ground in sum- 
mer, and used our boats in winter and between spells. The 
war has broken up our plans a good deal, ’specially of late, 
and what’s goin’ to become o’ us, if this racket doesn’t stop 
before long, is more’n I or any one else knows. I’m think- 
ing.” 

“Some of them make use of their boats still, I under- 
stand,” remarked David. 

“You understand aright, my friend, and it’s good use 
that’s made of these same boats too, I’m tollin’ ye. I don’t 
know how many whaleboats a man could pick up here- 
abouts if he was to make a search, but ’twould be quite a 
good-sized fleet. Some of the men keep up the ‘London 
trading,’ I’m sorry to say, an’ I haven’t much patience with 
that. I wouldn’t have a dicker with a redcoat or a Tory if 


THE SAIL IN THE NIGHT 


93 


he was to fill my sloop ‘Samantha’ with gold. Me an’ my 
wife Samantha haven’t touched a drop o’ tea in a good 
many weary months. I don’t mind it so much myself, but 
it’s a great trial to her. ’Tisn’t always yer men that grab 
their guns and go marchin’ up and down the land behind a 
drum and fife that’s always the truest patriots, I’m tellin’ 
ye. There’s many a woman in this country who doesn’t 
fairly know one end of a gun from the other, who’s been 
just as much a friend o’ the Colonies as those men who have 
grabbed their muskets an’ gone after yer squealin’, tootin’ 
fifes. They sent their boys and their husbands to the war, 
and with never a whimper. That’s the test for ye, in my 
opinion. It isn’t yer hen with the loudest cackle what 
always lays the most eggs.” 

“I think you’re right,” responded David. 

“No reflections on you or the boy,” added Israel hastily, 
as if it had just occurred to him that his words might be 
taken as an argument ad hominem. “Only I see so much 
tomfoolery that struts ’round like a turkey gobbler and is 
worth just about as much, that it just makes me mad, that’s 
what it does. Now, in the old Indian wars, an’ they were 
the times when there was men what was men, I’m tollin’ 
ye, there was no ‘London tradin’’ in those days! Every 
man was a straight patriot then, that’s what he was ! ” 

“There were some good men then, there’s no mistake 
about that,” said David; “but it maybe that those who 
come after us may point back and say that we were not so 
bad. Who knows but that there may come a time when 
these Colonies will really become what they have declared 
themselves to be, a free and independent nation, and that 


94 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


somebody will say that was the time when men were bold 
and women were brave.” 

“What? These men and these times?” demanded Is- 
rael sharply. “ Shucks ! You’re naught but a young man, 
and when you’ve lived to be as old as I am, you’ll knew 
more’ll you do at this present time.” 

“I sincerely hope so.” 

“ Well, if ye live to be a hundred years old, ye’ll never 
see the time when folks will point back to us and say we 
were worth mentionin’. No, sir! ’Twas in the French 
wars and the fights with the Indians ! They were the days 
when the men were men. No such tomfool men then as 
there are now ! ” 

“Don’t you think Washington’s a good man?” 

“Oh, so so, so so. But he never ought to have been 
made commander-in-chief. He didn’t have either the 
lamin’ or experience. General Artemas Ward ought to 
have been the leader ; and he would have been too, if it 
hadn’t been for John Adams. He was so pesky afraid that 
the Southern Colonies would pull off and not join the 
others, that he must compromise. That’s what it always 
is — compromise, compromise, compromise ! ’ 

“ What would you have done?” 

“What would I have done, young man? I’d have ap- 
pointed General Ward, just as all the Eastern folks wanted, 
that’s what I’d have done, and mighty quick too.” 

“But suppose the Southern men had pulled off? You 
know they feel now as if the New Englanders were claim- 
ing and getting pretty much all that’s due them.” 

“I’d have let them pull off if they wanted to. Such 


THE SAIL IN THE NIGHT 


95 


men don’t amount to much anyway. Grown-up men what 
have to be patted on the shoulder to keep ’em good-natured 

and fed with a spoon Hello,” he suddenly exclaimed, 

breaking in upon his own remarks, “here come my men ! 
We’ll know what to do now.” 

David glanced up as Israel spoke and beheld in the twi- 
light the two men, who had been sent forward a few min- 
utes before, now returning. With the others he leaped to 
his feet and hastened to meet them. 

“What’s the lay o’ the land?” inquired Israel anxiously 
as he came nearer. “ Is the coast all clear?” 

“Clear as a bell,” replied one. “ Haven’t seen or heard 
a thing.” 

“ We’ll put out, then. Come along, all of you.” 

David followed with the others as Israel led the way rap- 
idly up the beach. In about fifteen minutes they came to 
a secluded little cove, around which tall evergreens were 
growing and which effectively shut out the sight of every- 
thing behind them. 

Entering this, David soon perceived a good-sized sloop 
hidden from the sight of any one who might be passing on 
the sound or along the road. The discovery that his be- 
loved “Samantha” was safe and apparently sound seemed 
to restore Israel to his former confidence, and the eagerness 
with which he began to direct his followers and busy him- 
self in the task of getting the sloop ready for her voyage 
was a relief to David’s troubled heart. The mast had been 
shipped and concealed among the rocks. This was soon 
set in its place, the sails were hoisted, and the “Saman- 
tha” glided out upon the waters of Long Island Sound. 


96 


A PEISONER IX BUFF 


Israel was evidently at home now. His voice was deeper i 
and more gruff than before, and as the gentle breeze swept 
them onward, he took his stand by the tiller and motioned 
for David to come near him. 

“I sha’n’t run ye into the East River,” he said, “for 
even with the ‘ Samantha ’ that would be almost too 
much like temptin’ Providence. But I’ll land ye some- 
where on the other shore, and then ye can make yer way 
alone.” 

“That will be all right, and more than I ought to ask.” 

“Wait till ye get there. There’s been a good many o’ 
the British boats sent in here of late. Some comes from 
Newport and some from no one knows where. I’m of the 
opinion that they’ll keep a good, sharp watch after lettin’ 
AVashington and his men slip out o’ their hands the way he 
did night afore last. But ye needn’t be alarmed. The 
‘Samantha’ can distance the crowd of them; that is, all 
but one of their sloops, and I don’t know whether she’s 
about here or not.” 

“ Which one is that ? ” 

“The ‘Princess.’ She’s a trim affair; even I can’t dis- 
pute that. In a good breeze she’d give us a hard chase, no 
mistake about that. But she isn’t here now, leastwise in 
sight, and we won’t borry any trouble afore w^e have to. 
’Tis bad enough to meet it when we come face to face.” 

Captain Israel now became silent and was giving all his 
attention to the sailing of his sloop. Under the gentle 
breeze the fleet craft bore swiftly up the sound, but, for some 
reason David did not perceive, Israel did not kart directly 
for the opposite shore. The water rippled under her bow 


tHE SAIL IN THE ^HGHT 97 

and her long wake sliiinmered like silver in the light of the 
moon, which had risen. The stars also had appeared in 
the sky, and far out over the waters David could see in 
every direction. 

The August night was cool and the soft air was balmy 
and fragrant with the salt of the sea. It was all a new ex- 
perience to David, whose efforts had hitherto been confined 
entirely to the land, and in spite of his anxiety, he was en- 
joying it thoroughly. The sloop seemed to him like a thing 
alive. As she rose on the waves, or bent before the breeze, 
his feeling of exhilaration increased. And, best of all, he 
would soon be with his comrades in “ Haslet’s Dela- 
wares.” 

For a time he had been watching intently the distant 
shore, whose outlines could be dimly seen as the sloop sped 
onward. Its bays and projecting points liad all melted into 
one indistinct line that seemed to lie low in the waters. 
They were safe from all danger there, he thought, and then 
turned to glance behind him. 

Suddenly he sat erect and peered more intently at some- 
thing he had discovered in the distance. Surely he could 
not be mistaken, and that little white spot must be a sail. 
He touched Israel upon the arm and pointed to what he 
had discovered. 

The huge sailor looked for a moment indifferently at the 
sight, then started abruptly, called sharply to his men, 
and in a moment the entire scene on board the sloop was 
changed. 


G 


CHAPTER XII 


THE FLIGHT 

S HAKE her up, boys ! Give her the jib too ! ” called 
Israel ; and his men sprang to their tasks with 
alacrity. In a moment the “Samantha” felt the 
added impetus w’hich came from the additional canvas, and 
began to speed over the waters with a swifter flight. 

David had been thoroughly aroused by the discovery of 
the sail in the distance, but his alarm kept him silent. He 
had offered the aid of his services, but the skipper had 
gruffly informed him that he was only a “lubber,” and 
bidden him keep his seat ; and the Continental had obeyed, 
both because he did not understand the nautical terms used 
on board, and because he was only too well aware that he 
was, as Israel had said, only a “ lubber,” and might retard 
more than aid by his efforts, however well meant they 
might be. 

His helplessness coaid not prevent him from being a 
keen observer of all that was occurring, and his eyes fre- 
quently turned from the crew to that white spot he had 
been the first to see in the gloom behind them. It was still 
plainly visible, but the apparent confidence of Israel and 
his men in the ability of the “Samantha” to care for herself 
soon produced a calmer feeling in his own heart. 

For a time the little sloop sped forward, and nothing oc- 
curred to increase the alarm of any one on board. The 
98 


THE FLIGHT 


99 


wind, although not strong, was still sufficient to drive the 
fleet little craft steadily forward. Israel had slightly changed 
her course now, and instead of keeping within sight of the 
Long Island shore steered for the middle of the sound. 

“Ye needn’t be scared,” he said reassuringly to David, 
when his orders had all been carried out. “ ’Tis nothing 
more than we have every time we set sail ; and if they over- 
haul us now ’twill be the first time.” 

“There always has to be a ‘first time,’” said David 
quietly. 

“ What’s that? What’s that j^e say?” demanded Israel 
sharply, as if he had not fully comprehended the remark. 
“ What was ye say in’ ? ” 

“ I said that there had to be a ‘ first time,’ that was all.” 

“’Tisn’tso, if ye did say it. That’s what some folks is 
always sayin’, it seems to me. There doesn’t have to be 
any first time, no such thing ! Ye don’t have to be hanged 
the first time, do ye? It isn’t needful for ye to commit a 
wrong the first time, or any time, is it?” 

“ No ; I don’t suppose it is.” 

“Well, what ye talkin’ about, then, I’d like to know? 
There doesn’t have to be any first time for the ‘ Samantha ’ to 
be overhauled by any British patrol boat, either. I’m not 
lookin’ for any such ‘first things,’ I’d have ye to know.” 

Israel Schenck spoke confidently, and his faith served to 
reassure David in a measure ; but as he noticed that the 
skipper did not relax any of his vigilance, he also main- 
tained a constant watch, and almost fascinated by the sight 
of that dim little white spot behind them in the night, he 
kept his eyes upon it for the most of the time. 




100 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


The “Samantha ” was doing nobly, there could be no doubt 
as to that. She bounded forward before the breeze, and the 
splash, as her bow struck the waves, clearly indicated that 
she was responding to the demands made upon her. The 
wind still held fair, and as the sail still seemed to be as far 
behind as when it was first discovered, the immediate cause 
of alarm did not increase. 

“I think ni double on her,” said Israel to one of his 
men, “and make a run for it. I’m not afraid o’ her if the 
wind holds.” 

“I wouldn’t do it,” responded the man. “Keep her up 
tlie sound till we’ve lost that sail, and then you can come 
back as you please.” 

“If ’twas the ‘Princess’ I’d do what ye say,” replied 
Israel, “but there isn’t one chance in a hundred that it is ; 
and I wouldn’t be much afraid to turn straight back and 
risk it with ’most any other thing afloat on the sound.” 

“That’s all right, and you’ll do as you please, skipper. 
I’m only tellin’ ye what I’d do if the ‘Samantha’ belonged 
to me. What’s the use o’ takin’ chances when you’ve got 
a sure thing? ’Twill take but a few hours more, and there’s 
no such tearing hurry as I can see. The army’ll keep till 
this Continental can get back to it, if he is a few hours, or 
a few days, for the matter o’ that, behind the time.” 

Perhaps Israel felt that the man’s words cast a suspicion 
upon his own ability, or upon the sailing qualities of the 
much-loved “ Samantha.” At any rate he gruffly said : “I’ll 
follow your advice when I have to, Henry ; but I’m goin’ 
to chance it now and turn back toward the other shore.” 

The man made no further response, though it was evident 


THE FLIGHT 


101 


he thought the skipper was incurring a needless risk ; and 
David, in liis fear and ignorance, somehow agreed with the 
man and not with the captain. 

Israel Schenck was not to be easily turned from a purpose, 
and although he heard the low words of the sailor that 
“the cap’ll would jest let the other craft cut across his 
bows by his foolishness,” he made no response, the course 
of the “Samantha” was quickly changed, and she was 
headed for some spot on the opposite shore. 

David soon perceived that the strange sail had not con- 
tinued on its way up the sound, but that it too had changed 
its course, and was still behind them. His alarm was still 
further increased when he thought the distance between 
them was not so great as it had been. For a few minutes 
he keenly watched the far-away sail, but did not speak until 
at last, unable to keep silence longer, he turned to Israel, 
and said : 

“ Whatever it is, that sail is gaining upon us.” 

“So I see,” replied Israel gruffly. 

“ Do you think it’s the ‘ Princess ’ ? ” 

“ As likely as not. No other craft on the sound, as I told 
ye, could ever keep in our wake like that.” Israel still 
spoke without excitement, but his hearer could not be so 
easily content. 

“Isn’t there something I can do?” inquired David hast- 
ily, “I don’t want to sit here and just be a burden to you 
all. We mustn’t let her overtake us ! ” 

“She hasn’t yet,” replied Israel shortly. 

Nevertheless it was apparent that he was more troubled 
than he cared to show. He issued some fresh orders to his 


102 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


men, but with all their efforts the “Samantha” could not 
shake off her strange pursuer. 

In the track of the moonlight all could see that distant 
sail now. She seemed to be almost motionless, but as both 
vessels were moving at nearly an equal rate of speed, that 
easily accounted for the apparently unchanged position. 
The men seldom spoke, and even Israel was anxious. 

For several minutes the fleet crafts sped forward in 
silence. All had been done for the “ Samantha” that lay in 
the power of her crew, and they must rely now’ entirely 
upon the seamanship of the skipper and the condition of 
the wind. 

Of the former there could be no doubt, for a better sailor 
than Israel Schenck was not to be found south of Point 
Judith ; but of the latter no man knew. David recalled 
what Israel had said about a breeze and devoutly prayed 
for the wind to die away, but as yet there was no signs of 
his prayer being granted. Not strong, but still steadily, the 
wind blew, and as the sloop careened before it, no signs of 
the approach of the longed-for calm could be seen. 

“That craft’s the ‘Princess’ as sure as fate,” muttered 
Israel, as he glanced once more in the direction of their 
pursuer. 

“How many men does she carry?” inquired David anx- 
iously. 

“Oh, anywhere from a dozen to twenty. She’s loaded 
with men. She seems to take ’em aboard instead o’ 
ballast.” 

“What’ll you do when she overhauls us?” 

“Fight.” 


THE FLIGHT 


103 


“But there are only six on board this sloop. What can 
they do against twenty ? ” 

“Fight, I tell ye! Can’t ye understand the king’s 
English?” 

Israel was brave. David could well believe that, and his 
huge frame and great strength would make him an antag- 
onist before whom three or four men might well quail. 
But, in spite of all, the knowledge that the “ Princess” car- 
ried so large a crew, if the pursuing vessel was indeed the 
“Princess,” and the likelihood that she was well supplied 
with arms, and perhaps even with cannon, greatly increased 
David’s alarm. 

Pie himself was no coward, but he w’as aware that the 
peril of his companions w^as largely due to his presence on 
board the sloop, and that fact, as well as the thought of an 
unequal contest, tended more and more to increase his anx- 
iety, as well as his fear. 

It was now w ell on tow\ard midnight. The silent stars, to 
the w’atchful David, seemed almost to stop to view the chase. 
The w ind w'as not increasing, and as he raised his hand to 
feel the breeze a moment, he thought it w’as dying aw^ay ; 
but as the “Samantha” still plunged forward he knew it 
could not be so. No one spoke now save Israel, and he only 
occasionally when in a low voice he issued some order, 
w hich his men obeyed in silence, and then turned to watch 
the pursuing sail. 

It could not be disguised now that the other boat was 
gaining. Occasionally the outlines of the vessel rose into 
view and every time they became more and more distinct 
in the moonlight. Israel still stood by the tiller, and only 


104 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


looked behind him occasionally, though when he did turn, 
it was to look for a long time as if he would satisfy himself 
as to the true nature of his pursuer. 

Another half-hour passed and still the conditions were not 
materially changed, except that the fact that the pursuing 
boat was gaining became more apparent. David was 
breathing rapidly in his excitement and longed to do some- 
thing to increase tiie speed of the “ Samantha.” It seemed 
to him as if she were only crawling over the sea. At times 
he thought of his nephew whom he had left in the care of 
Israel’s wife. Surely both he and Alexander were destined 
to bring trouble upon their benefactors! And then he 
would think of what capture would mean for them all. For 
each a prison, and for Israel there was also the added loss 
of his vessel. 

In his anxiety he rose from his seat and stood leaning 
upon the rail peering out into the night. Surely he could 
not be mistaken, the speed of the sloop was visibly slacken- 
ing. Was anything wrong? He turned sharply to Israel, 
and heard him say in his gruffest voice : 

“The "wind’s dying out! The ‘Samantha’s’ never yet 
had her luck go back on her. We’ll get away from the 
‘Princess’ j^et.” 

It was true that the breeze was not so strong as it had 
been. An occasional little puff of wind came and the sloop 
responded, but that was all. Soon the sails flapped against 
the mast, and not a breath of air seemed to be moving. 

The other vessel could still be seen, but she too was mo- 
tionless. Elated as David was, he still could not see how 
Israel planned to escape. They must lie there becalmed 


THE FLIGHT 


105 


until the wind came up, and while they were safe mean- 
while, still as soon as the breeze returned they would be in 
the same condition as before. 

Israel now gave orders for every sail to be taken in. 
David did not understand that the skipper’s motive was to 
prevent his boat from being seen, for he attributed it all to 
the work which was soon given the men. 

At Israel’s order four long oars were drawn forth, of 
whose existence David had not been aware, and then he 
heard Israel say to him : 

“ Now' we’ve some work that even a lubber can do. Help 
with those oars and we’ll soon leave the “Princess” and 
all her crew' in the dark.” 

David started eagerly to obey, but lie suddenly stopped 
as he thought he heard the sound of oars in the distance. 
Peering through the darkness he soon knew that he w'as 
not deceived, for his companions as w'ell as he could per- 
ceive the dim outlines of tw'O long boats approaching from 
the direction in w'hich their inirsuers had come. 


CHAPTER XIII 


IN CLOSE QUARTERS 

I SRAEL SCHENCK’S attention was quickly called to the 
discovery which had so alarmed the watchful David, 
and in a moment the skipper called to his men to re- 
double their efforts. Indeed, he himself lent the aid of his 
mighty arms, and all of the crew were soon doing their ut- 
most. At two of the oars four men were working desper- 
ately, while at the other two the strongest of tlie sailors 
had been placed, and their efforts were almost equal to the 
combined powers of their companions. 

The “Samantha” instantly responded to the new im- 
pulse, and for a time sped swiftly forward over the waves. 
As has been said, she was a light little sloop, built first of 
all for speed, and drawing so little water that she could 
make her way up many a winding creek or over the shal- 
lows where many a vessel of no greater depth than hers 
would be unable to follow. 

For a time now the struggle to get away from the pur- 
suing boats continued without any material change in the 
situation. The men put forth all their strength, and the 
long oars bent under their powerful strokes. Xot a word 
was spoken, though every man kept his eyes fixed upon 
those distant spots on the surface of the sound, knowing 
only too well what they were and what the danger was 
which threatened the “Samantha,” if she could not draw 
106 


IN CLOSE QUARTERS 


107 


far enough away from the pursuers to be concealed in the 
darkness of the night. 

By this time they were much nearer the Connecticut 
shore than that of the island, but it was still so far away 
as to be indistinct and appear only like a low line upon 
the water. What Israel’s plan was, if indeed he had any 
definite plan, David could not conjecture. All other things 
were lost sight of, however, in tlie one desire to distance 
those two boats which still could be distinguished behind 
them. 

And the men labored desperately at the oars, being well 
assured that “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,’’ 
which the declaration of the Continental Congress had so 
recently assured them belonged to them by right of birth, 
depended now upon other things than the parchment upon 
which the words had been written, or the signatures of the 
sturdy men who had declared the truth to be self-evident. 

“They’re hitting up the stroke,” said Israel, when a 
quarter of an hour had passed. “They can’t see or hear 
our oars, but they’ve found out they aren’t coming any 
nearer and they’re pulling harder. Do the same, men ! 
Give it to her ! ” 

His companions endeavored to respond to his call, but 
Israel himself appeared to be the only one capable of do- 
ing more than was then being done. The “Samantha” 
was doing well, but what could her crew hope to do against 
their swifter pursuers? They could make out the outlines 
of the boats now, and concluded that they must be cutters. 
They thought they could distinguish two men rowing on 
each seat, and as there were three of these in each boat, it 


108 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


was readily perceived that fourteen men were behind them, 
to say nothing of those who might still be on board the 
“ Princess,” if the vessel which had pursued them was in- 
deed the “ Princess,” of which no one now seemed to en- 
tertain the slightest doubt. 

The crew of the “ Samantha” were laboring desperately. 
The long oars rose and fell together, but the sound of the 
heavy breathing of all was heard by each, and did not 
tend to allay his fears. The moments passed, the desperate 
struggle still continued, but the cutters were gaining more 
and more rapidly. The only comfort was in the perception 
that one of the boats had far outstripped the other, and as 
it came nearer the distance between it and its companion 
steadily increased. 

“There goes the moon,” muttered Israel as the darkness 
deepened. “’Twill be morning before long, and we’ll 
stand a better chance then. Try it again, men ! Put a 
little more ginger in your work ! We’ll fool the rascals 
yet!” 

David, as well as the other men, did his utmost to re- 
spond to the appeal, and for a moment it seemed as if the 
speed of the “Samantha” was visibly increased. The 
soldier could not perceive just what advantage Israel 
Schenck hoped to gain in the daylight, but he asked no 
questions. Still it seemed to him that their peril would be 
greater rather than less with the coming of the morning. 
The darkness had been something of a curtain, but when 
that was rolled away, the “Princess,” as well as the cut- 
ters, could enter into the struggle to which there could be 
but one outcome, he thought. 


IN CLOSE QUARTERS 


109 


Desperately now the crew of the “Samantha” were 
laboring. The long contest could not continue much 
longer, every one knew. Still they were not ready to give 
up. Life was sweet and freedom still sweeter, and as long 
as there was a shadow of a chance not one was willing to 
abandon the struggle. The little sloop, not much more 
than a good-sized catboat, was doing nobly. Already they 
had kept beyond the reach of the cutters much longer than 
David had deemed possible, but the first of the pursuing 
boats was now not more than a hundred yards behind them. 
The voices of the men could be heard occasionally as some 
word was spoken by the one who was steering, and the 
click of the oars came faintly over the water. 

“There comes the morning,” said Israel, as a pale streak 
of light appeared in the eastern sky. “It’s now or never 
with us. Can you keep it up a little longer? If we can 
only gain a few yards now we’ll be out of their reach be- 
fore they know it.” 

No one made any reply, and the uselessness of further 
striving to increase their speed was at once apparent. 
David still wondered at Israel’s seeming confidence. For 
himself he could not discover any ray of hope. The Con- 
necticut shore lay not far away it was true, but, for all that 
he could understand, it might as well be out of sight for 
any relief it promised. 

“ There’s a breeze ! There’s a breeze ! ” exclaimed Israel 
suddenly. 

A light ripple swept over the water and the men could 
all feel the soft air as it touched their streaming faces. For 
a moment a ray of hope came, but only for a moment. Not 


110 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


more than fifty yards behind them came the first of the 
cutters, it’s companion being a good two liundred yards in 
the rear. Far away in the distance a sail could be seen, 
and it required no word to assure the crew of the “ Saman- 
tha ” that the distant vessel was the “ Princess.” Doubtless 
she too had felt the morning breeze and, quick to take ad- 
vantage of it, had hoisted her sails and was following in the 
wake of her cutters. 

“ Keep it up, men ! ” called Israel. “ Don’t drop an oar. 
Jack and I will hoist the sails and we’ll use wind and oar 
both. Keep it up ! Pull men, pull ! It’s the shore or the 
jail in New York ” ! 

Israel rose from his seat to execute his own order, but he 
stopped for a moment as a hail came from the near-by cut- 
ter. Some one was standing in the stern and all could 
plainly hear his words. 

“ Stop your craft, or we’ll board you ! ” shouted the man. 

His crew had not ceased rowing and the little boat sped 
swiftly forward. In a few minutes it would be alongside, 
and to David’s trembling heart it seemed as if the end of 
the contest had come. 

Israel Schenck at first made no response to the hail, but 
darting to the bow of the ‘‘ Samantha,” he ordered his men 
to change slightly the direction in which the sloop was 
moving, and then he brought the little brass cannon, which 
now for the first time David noticed in the bow, to bear 
upon the cutter. 

“ Stand off ! ” shouted Israel. “Back water, or I’ll give 
you the gun ! ” 

No attention was paid to his words, and then quickly 


Quickly bringing the little cannon in range of the boat, Israel . . . fired.” Page 1 11 











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I 


IN CLOSE QUARTEKS 


111 


bringing the little cannon within range of the boat, Israel 
struck a spark from his flint and tender, and, holding the 
burning match to the touch-hole, fired. 

There was a flash, a loud report, a cloud of smoke, and 
then for a moment everything was silent. The screams of 
the seabirds could be heard, but that was all. Quickly the 
smoke rolled away, and every man almost instinctively 
rested on his oar and peered eagerly at the boat behind 
them. 

The ball had passed harmlessly in front of it, but the 
progress of the cutter had instantly stopped. The dis- 
charge had been so unexpected that for a moment the men 
were thrown into confusion. This lasted but a moment, 
however, for dropping their oars, and almost before the 
crew of the “Samantha” realized what they were doing, 
they had grasped their guns and fired. 

Israel had barel}^ time to call upon his men to drop, be- 
fore the reports were heard and the thud of the bullets as 
they struck the sides of the “Samantha” followed. No 
one was hurt, and as soon as he perceived that his men 
were safe, Israel sharply called upon them to seize their 
muskets and fire a volley at their pursuers. 

David was calm now, and as he rose from his seat, 
grasped the gun, and aiming at one of the men in the bow 
of the cutter, he perceived that his companions were all 
ready and apparently no more alarmed than he. 

“ Fire ! ” called Israel, and the reports rang out together. 

They could see that one man pitched forward from his 
seat, but he was forgotten for the moment as the course of 
the cutter was instantly reversed and with desperate haste 


112 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


the men began to row back toward the other boat. This 
meanwhile had been swiftly sent forward and in a brief 
time the two were together, and it was evident that a con- 
ference between them was being held. 

Israel did not await the result of it, for the sails of the 
“Samantha” were quickly hoisted, the cannon was re- 
loaded, and four of the men were bidden to take their 
places at the oars again. 

Then once more the efforts to escape were resumed. The 

sails filled with the morning breeze and aided materially in 

the flight of the “Samantha.” The laboring crew soon 
\ 

perceived, however, that neither of the cutters was follow- 
ing. Both of them could be seen keeping close together 
and not moving from the place where they had been. 

“They’re waiting for the “Princess,” said Israel quietly, 
after a brief time had passed. “Ye needn’t use yer oars 
now, we’ll try and get along without ’em, leastwise till 
we’re in closer quarters than we are now.” 

What a relief it was to cease rowing, thought David, as 
he with the others obeyed the skipper’s order. His hands 
were bleeding and it seemed to him that every muscle in 
his body was strained and sore. Never had a brief rest 
been more grateful to him. 

It was soon perceived, however, that the “Samantha” 
was not yet safe. The distant vessel was gaining upon 
them, and although the wind was steadily rising it seemed 
to favor their pursuers more than it did the sloop. They 
could see the two cutters as they were overhauled and the 
men taken on board, and then with increased speed the 
sloop resumed the pursuit. There was no doubt now that 


IN CLOSE QUARTERS 


113 


she was the “Princess” and even Israel Schenck’s face be- 
trayed his increasing alarm as the distance between the 
boats was steadily and rapidly lessened. 

Every stitch of canvas had now been spread and the 
“Samantha” sped on like a frightened bird. The shore 
still seemed to be far away, and at the rate at which the 
“ Princess” was gaining she would overhaul them before it 
could be gained. 

The momentary advantage seemed to have been all lost, 
and the faces of the men betrayed the increasing alarm in 
their hearts. Only Israel now seemed to have any hope, 
and as no one shared his feeling, the depression on board 
the “Samantha” increased with every passing moment. 

David had turned to follow the gaze of Israel who was 
looking toward the shore, and startled by the sight, the 
soldier arose from his seat and peered more eagerly before 
him. Not a hundred yards in advance he could see the 
foaming waters and white-capped waves, and knew that 
they were approaching some shoal. 

“ ’Tis our only chance,” muttered Israel as he perceived 
the look of alarm on David’s face. “ ’Tis one in a hun- 
dred, but one’s better than none at all.” 

“You’ll never do it. You’ll run fast aground!” ex- 
claimed David, “and then the ‘Princess’ will have you 
sure and fast.” 

He had no time for further remonstrance, for in a moment 
the “Samantha” dashed into the foaming waters, and 
began to roll and toss in the midst of the boisterous waves. 


IT 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE BAR 

T he excitement on board the little sloop did not mani- 
fest itself in words, but the expression upon the faces 
of all the men betrayed how fully they realized that 
the crisis was at hand. If they could only place the bar 
between them and their pursuers their escape w'ould be 
almost sure. 

Meanwhile the strong breeze drove the “ Samantha ” on- 
ward, but the boisterous waves stretched out for at least a 
hundred yards before her, clearly revealing the extent of 
the shoal. 

The light craft rolled and pitched, the sandy bottom 
could be plainly seen by the trembling crew, and at any 
moment they expected to hear the thud that would indicate 
that they could go no farther. Behind them came the 
“Princess,” bending low and apparently sharing in the 
eagerness of her men to overtake the luckless “ Samantha.” 
Indeed, the men themselves could be plainly seen upon the 
deck watching the maneuvers of the vessel before them. 
An especially bright spot upon the bow revealed the place 
where a small brass cannon was mounted, and the added 
danger of its fire was to be counted upon. 

A sudden lurch of the “ Samantha” almost threw David 
from his seat and drew his eyes for the moment from the 
swift-sailing ‘ ‘ Princess. ’ ’ He could hear the keel scrape upon 
114 


THE BAR 


115 


the sand and for a moment feared that they were aground ; 
but the stiff breeze bore the sloop slowly forward and in a 
moment the sound of the grating ceased and the “ Saman- 
tha” was once more free. But much of the shoal still re- 
mained to be crossed before the calmer waters could be 
gained, and the experience they had just had made the 
men all anxious as to what still lay before them. 

Again the grating sound was heard and the sloop almost 
stopped. Israel called to his men to seize the oars and pole 
the boat, and soon by their combined efforts the “Saman- 
tha” slid over the shallow place and once more bounded 
forward on her way. 

The water was becoming more shallow, however, and in 
places it did not appear to be more than a few inches in 
depth. Would they be able to clear it? David’s fears in- 
creased and his breathing was now hard and fast. Once 
more he glanced behind him, and the sight of the oncoming 
“Princess ” only increased his fear. After all, it seemed as 
if capture was inevitable. 

Israel Schenck had no thought of giving up, however. 
He himself held the tiller and his strength and marvelous 
skill never appeared to greater advantage. He issued his 
orders in his gruff way and the men were not slow to re- 
spond. Slowly the “ Samantha ” crawled ahead ; her keel 
grating at frequent intervals and yet her progress not being 
entirely stopped. 

Only about fifty feet now remained between them and the 
calmer waters beyond, and if that distance could be passed 
in safety, their prospect of escaping would be radically im- 
proved. But as they approached the borders of the bar the 


116 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


water became still more shallow. Ever}" foot of the way 
was eagerly watched nowand with an anxiety which David 
at least could not conceal. 

He was eager to do something to aid his companions, but 
his lack of knowledge of even the simplest of nautical 
terms prevented him, and he did not understand many of 
the orders the skipper gave until after they had been exe- 
cuted. Every nerve was tingling with excitement and he 
was continually turning from the sight of the sloop behind 
them to glance at the bottom or to peer ahead at the refuge 
so near and yet so far away. 

Once more the “Samantha” grounded and this time she 
did not move. The sail flapped and threatened to jibe and 
the vessel leaned low upon her side. In liis alarm David 
sprang to his feet and was almost ready to leap overboard 
in his excitement, perhaps thinking he could swim to the 
shore which was still a full mile away. 

Israel was not to be caught napping, however. He gave a 
sharp command for some of the men to leap into the water 
and push against the stern, while others were to use the 
long oars as poles. Then he himself ran rapidly to the bow 
and seizing a small anchor, to which a rope was attached, 
flung it far in advance of him into the shallow water. Then 
settling back and bracing his feet he began to pull, and at 
the same time ordered his companions to put forth all their 
strength. 

Slowly the “Samantha” began to slip over the sand. 
At times she stopped and it required all the combined 
efforts of her men to move her, but each time she re- 
sponded and by inches began to approach the edge of tlie 


THE BAR 


117 


bar. So by warping and poling, aided by the lusty efforts 
of the men in the water who were pushing against the 
stern, the little sloop moved on and on. Israel’s gruff voice 
was calling out his directions, but apparently the men were 
giving slight heed to them, for every one seemed to under- 
stand just what was expected of him and was doing his 
utmost. 

David had leaped into the water and with four others 
was pushing against the stern. Once he slipped and fell, 
but unmindful of his predicament, quickly scrambled to 
his feet again and pushed with redoubled power. 

Suddenly Israel shouted: “Look out, men! We’re off 
the bar ! Go aboard, every one o’ ye 1 Look out 1 Look 
out 1 ” 

With a quick movement the “Samantha” slid over the 
last part of the bar and glided out upon the smooth water. 
Instantly she righted lierself and as the sails filled, she 
bent low and sped swiftly forward. All the men except 
David had succeeded in getting on board, but he, owing 
either to his lack of skill or because he did not respond 
quickly enough, was left behind standing in the shallow 
place and in consternation watching the “Samantha” as 
she swiftly departed. 

His predicament was quickly perceived by Israel, and 
bringing the “ Samantha ” quickly about he approached the 
luckless soldier. As the sloop drew near the men held forth 
one of the long oars for David to grasp, but he was too far 
away, and the boat sped on without him. 

Again Israel brought his sloop about, and once more ap- 
proached the bar. The trembling David gave one glance 


118 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


behind him, and his heart leaped when he perceived that 
the “Princess” was almost within calling distance. He 
must succeed this time, he thought, and standing close to 
the deep water he waited with outstretched hands for the 
“ Samantha ” to come near. 

This time, instead of holding forth an oar, one of the 
crew stood holding a coil of rope in his hands, and as the 
sloop approached threw it toward the waiting man. The 
swift movement of the boat caused the rope to fall to one 
side, but making a desperate effort David fell upon it and 
grasped it tightly in his hands. 

In a moment he felt himself being drawn through the 
water. It filled his mouth and ears, and for a time he 
thought he was strangling. Still he clung to the rope, and 
in a brief space of time was drawn, sputtering and gasping 
for breath, upon the deck. 

Without waiting for him to recover, the course of the 
“Samantha” was speedily reversed, and driven before the 
wind she sped up the sound, keeping well in toward the 
shore, and at a goodly distance from the bar, which had so 
nearly been the cause of their ruin. 

“We’re all right now, I’m thinkin’,” growled Israel. 
“If the ‘Princess’ tries to cross that bar she’s a goner. 
She draws more water than the ‘ Samantha ’ ; and if she 
tries it she’ll be stuck fast till the tide rises, and that’ll give 
us a good two hours the start o’ her.” 

All eyes were now turned upon the pursuing sloop. As 
well as they could judge she must be near the shoal, and 
their conjecture proved to be correct when a moment later 
they saw her prepare to come about and reverse her course. 


THE BAR 


119 


“Good-bye to ye!” shouted Israel, waving his hat. 
“ The next time ye try to catch ” 

His remarks were suddenly interrupted as a puff of smoke 
rose from the bow of the “Princess,” and the boom of the 
small brass cannon rang out. The ball came skipping over 
the water dangerously near them, but “a miss was as good 
as a mile,” the men declared, and answered the sound with 
a shout. 

“Let me give ’em one, skipper!” said one of the men 
quietly, starting as he spoke toward the gun in their own 
bow. “Tit for tat is all fair, ye know.” 

“No, no,” said Israel hastily. “I haven’t a ball to 
spare. We may need every one o’ ’em later ; and besides, 
you wouldn’t hit even Long Island Sound, Jack Chambliss, 
if you was to do yer best.” 

The men all laughed at the words, for they were elated 
now, and felt certain that they were in no immediate danger 
of further pursuit by the “Princess.” They could see the 
sloop bearing away toward New York, and as they them- 
selves were sailing swiftly toward the other end of the 
sound, the distance between them was being rapidly in- 
creased. 

“That shoal,” explained Israel, “runs for a good mile 
up the sound, and if the ‘Princess’ tries to turn it, she’ll 
find we’ll be out o’ sight by that time. Still, if she wants 
to come after us, let her try it. We’ll soon be where we’ll 
give her as good as she sends. Indeed, I’d like nothin’ bet- 
ter than for her to come up the sound inside the shoal.” 

“Where are you going now?” inquired David, who un- 
derstood none of the plans in Israel’s mind, and only knew 


120 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


that they were sailing in a direction away from New York, 
and directly opposite to that in which he must go to rejoin 
his fellows. 

“ You’ll find out pretty quick.” 

“But why don’t you land me and leave me to find my 
way overland? It isn’t necessary for you to go so far out 
of your course on my account.” 

“So it isn’t,” was the only reply Israel made. 

Perceiving that the skipper was in no mood for conversa- 
tion, David endeavored to be content, though he was sadly 
puzzled to account for the present movements of the “Sa- 
mantha.” One of the men ventured the opinion that Israel 
was afraid that the “ Princess ” would remain near the head 
of the shoal, and keep a sharp lookout for the “ Samantha ” 
in case she renewed her present course. He also explained 
that Israel would doubtless go back when night came, and, 
after landing David somewhere on the shore of the main- 
land, would cross the sound to his home. . 

With this explanation David was forced to be content, 
but as the noontime came, and then the afternoon sun sank 
lower in the sky, and still the “Samantha” held to her 
course, he became more and more puzzled. Still Israel gave 
no hint of his plans, and the sloop kept steadily on in her 
course. 

Provisions had been stored in the lockers, and upon these 
the men made their dinner. All were in good humor now, 
and even laughed and sang ; but the leonine skipper did not 
join in their hilarity, and seldom left his place by the til- 
ler. 

About three o’clock in the afternoon Israel changed the 


THE BAR 


121 


course of the sloop, and bore directly for the Connecticut 
shore. Soon this became more clearly visible, and then, 
after a brief time, the outlines of a little cove or bay could 
be seen. High bluffs were on one shore, and toward these 
Israel guided the “Samantha.” 

As they came nearer David’s confusion was in no wise 
cleared up. Low evergreens covered the sides of the banks, 
but what lay behind them he could not perceive. The 
sloop was close in shore by this time, and under shortened 
sail kept on her way. The water was quiet, and what 
seemed to be the mouth of some river spread out before 
them. Where he was, or what the purpose of Israel was 
in coming here was still a mystery, and David’s heart began 
to be troubled by a new fear. He did not know Israel 
Schenck well,* and it might be possible that he was a differ- 
ent man from what he had appeared to be. 

Still striving to banish the suspicion, David looked up 
quickly as Israel ran the sloop ashore, gave out the order 
to take in sail, and then whistled three times in a peculiar 
manner. 

In a few minutes a reply was heard, and then David saw 
a half-dozen men approaching from behind the evergreens, 
gazing curiously at the sloop and at Israel Schenck’s com- 
panions. 


CHAPTER XV 


DAVID LEARNS ABOUT “ THE TURTLE” 

D avid returned the questioning glances of the ap- 
proaching men, but it required only a moment for 
him to perceive that Israel Schenck and the new- 
comers were evidently old acquaintances and his heart was 
in a measure relieved of its fear. There was a quiet, sturdy 
determination in the bearing of the strangers that strongly 
impressed him in their favor, and in a few minutes his 
hopes were confirmed by their words, for as soon as Israel 
was recognized, one of the men advanced and said : . 

“ How now, Israel Schenck? We did not look for you for 
three days yet.” 

“Nor did I expect to come before that time. But when 
the ‘ Princess ’ starts for the ‘ Samantha ’ she must run to 
cover where she can find it.” 

“ The ‘ Princess ’ ? Have you been chased by her? ” 

“ I have that,” replied Israel, as he briefly related the 
exciting events of the day. 

The men listened attentively, and when he had ended his 
story the leader said quickly, “ Where is she now ? I hope 
she didn’t see you run in here.” 

“You may rest easy as to that. The ‘Princess’ never 
would dare to cross the shoal in this tide, and besides M’e 
saw her under full sail, headed the other way. We lost 
sight of her long before we steered in here.” 

122 


DAVID LEARNS ABOUT THE TURTLE’’ 123 

“I’m glad you did, Israel. With such schemes as we 
have on foot we don’t want any British patrol boat spying 
us out. Who’s this man?” he added, glancing at David 
and apparently for the first time becoming aware of his 
presence. 

“That? Oh, that’s one of Haslet’s Delawares. He was 
in the fight on Long Island, and we started with him across 
the sound to land him where he could join the army again. 
His nephew was hurt in the fight and Samantha’s looking 
after him at our house.” 

“ ’Tis well you can vouch for him, Israel. We must know 
our men now, every one. Great things are stirring, as you 
know. But run your boat a little farther up. You know 
where and how to fix her, and then come up to the camp. 
I’ll go back there now and wait for ye.” 

At Israel’s word the men poled the little sloop along the 
shore until they came to a clump of trees and bushes that 
seemed to be growing in the water. Pushing the “ Saman- 
tha” within these, David perceived that some of the trees 
were not growing naturally there, but had been so placed 
as to shelter and conceal what lay behind them. The 
“Samantha” was soon made fast and effectually hidden 
from the sight of any passing vessel, and as a guard was 
already stationed on the bluff, all the crew followed Israel 
as he started toward the camp. 

They soon came to the place, and David’s surprise was 
in no way relieved when he perceived that a large hut had 
been erected within the shelter of the trees and that eight 
men were there to w^elcome the new party. They were 
sturdy and stalwart fellows, the most of them as young 


124 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


as he. They wore no uniforms, but David’s confidence had 
all returned now and he no longer felt any alarm. 

It was now late in the afternoon and the men at once be- 
gan to prepare supper for their guests. The leader and 
Israel sat apart from their fellows and began to converse in 
low tones. David was seated near them and as he perceived 
the serious nature of their conversation he rose to depart, 
not having, any desire to hamper them by his presence. 

“Don’t go, young man,” said Israel kindly. “You’ll 
hear nothing you won’t soon know anyway, and you might 
as well stay, for we may want to ask a question or two of 
ye before we’re done. Sit down again.” 

David stayed, although he thought Israel’s companion 
did not fully share in the desire for him to remain, but in 
a brief time he forgot all that in the interest with which 
he found himself listening to the words of the men. 

“Ye know then jist where the army is now, do ye?” 
Israel was saying. 

“ Yes. Washington has put the most o’ his men along 
the East River, though he has left a pretty fair-sized de- 
tachment in the city along with Putnam.” 

“I suppose Prescott is on Governor’s Island still, isn’t 
he?” 

“No, sir ! Not much ! There wasn’t a ghost of a reason 
for leaving him there in such a dangerous spot. So Wash- 
ington has drawn him and his men all off, right under the 
noses o’ the British. It beats all how that man got his 
forces across from where they were without the redcoats 
knowing it ! I don’t wonder they call him ‘the fox.’ He 
is about as foxy as they make ’em'.” 


DAVID LEARNS ABOUT THE TURTLE 125 


“Still he’s had to run to cover,” said Israel gloomily. 

“ So he has. So he has. But ye want to be thankful he’s 
got a cover to run to. I’m tollin’ ye that his fight on the 
island is a goin’ to do more to stir us up than it would if 
we’d beat ’em. Then, some would ’a’ settled back and 
thought there wasn’t any use in their doin’ anything more. 
Now they’ll just have to wake up and’ bestir themselves, 
every one.” 

“ I only hope it’ll be as you say. I suppose General Sul- 
livan is a prisoner. That’s what I was told. His loss will 
be a heavy one, I’m think in’.” 

“ Yes. He’s a prisoner. He was taken aboard the 
‘ Eagle ’ — that’s the flagship, as you know — but he isn’t 
there now, and mighty lucky it is for him too, that he 
isn’t.” 

“ Why? What do you mean? I wish ye’d explain yer- 
self, Tom Potter, an’ not speak in riddles. I’m in no mood 
to listen to ’em.” 

Tom Potter, as Israel called the leader, hesitated for a 
moment, then glanced questioningly again at David. 

“ Speak up, man ! Speak up ! ” growled Israel. “ Haven’t 
I told ye he was one o’ Haslet’s Delawares ? Ye ain’t afraid 
o’ them, are ye? Ye’ll be suspectin’ me next.” 

“No, I’m not afraid,” said the man quickly. “Only, 
there aren’t half my own men that know anything about 
this, and ’tain’t wise for too many to know either. Ye 
know Ezra Lee, don’t ye?” he inquired abruptly. 

“Yes, I know 1 him. He’s with General Parsons, isn’t 
he?” 

“ He is that ; but he left here this morning.” 


126 


A PEISONER IN BUFF 


“Left here? Why, I thought he was in the city.” 

“So he is, or he will be to-night, if his horse can make 
it.” 

“ I wish ye’d speak up, Tom, if ye’ve really got anything 
to say. Ye speak in riddles all the time, and as I told ye, 
I’m not over fond o’ them.” 

“Maybe ye know Bushnell too? He lives here at Say- 
brook, as ye may be aware.” 

Israel was alert now in a moment. Sitting erect he 
peered eagerly at the man before him, and said hastily : 
“Ye don’t mean to tell me that they’re going to try Bush- 
nell’s ‘Turtle,’ do ye?” 

“Yes, sir; that’s the, very thing they’re going to do. 
The whole thing has been arranged. Washington has 
agreed to it, and he’s been all over the ‘Turtle’ himself. 
Parsons has picked out Ezra Lee to do the trick, and Ezra’s 
been clear up here just to see Bushnell afore he went into 
the thing. Bushnell’s the most inventive man in this 
whole colony o’ Connecticut, and that’s no mean praise for 
any man, I’d have ye understand.” 

“But when and where are they going to do the job?” 
persisted Israel. 

“They’re going to do it soon, and as near as I can find 
out, it’s goin’ to be the ‘ Eagle ’ that’ll receive the first visit. 
That’s what I meant when I said ’twas a good thing for 
Sullivan that he wasn’t aboard o’ her any longer.” 

“ Where’s Bushnell ?” 

“Oh, he’s gone to the city too. He’s goin’ to be on 
deck when the affair comes off.” 

“ I’d rather be there than in Ezra Lee’s place. I wouldn’t 



“David saw a half-dozen men approaching.’’ 

Page 121. 




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DAVID LEARNS ABOUT THE TURTLE 127 

do what they say he’s goin’ to for all the possessions o’ King 
George and the colonies o’ North America thrown in. No, 
sir ! I think too much of Samantha Schenck for that ! ” 

“ Oh, yes you wpuld, Israel. You’d do it as soon as Ezra, 
if you was called on.” 

“ Mebbe I would, but I don’t believe it. When d’ye say 
the thing was to be done ? ” 

“ I didn’t say, for I don’t know exactly. I don’t sup- 
pose any one does, for the matter o’ that. ’Twill depend on 
the night, and the weather, and the tide too. There ! I 
guess supper’s ready, so come on an’ take a bite.” 

The men rose and approached the camp fire, around which 
the others were already assembled and doing ample justice 
to the simple repast. Israel Schenck was greatly stirred, 
David could easily perceive that, and he too shared in the 
feeling, although he could not understand the cause of it. 
It had been plain to him that some enterprise of more than 
usual interest had been referred to, but he could not even 
conjecture what its nature was to be. 

Israel approached the fire and drew forth several of the 
ears of roasted corn, and handing two to David, indicated 
his wish for the soldier to follow him to the edge of the 
circle, where the skipper seated himself upon the ground. 

“I suppose ye think Tom and I was talkin’ Greek, or 
Choctaw, or some other queer language, don’t ye?” he 
inquired in a low voice. 

“I didn’t understand ; but then it isn’t necessary for me 
to,” replied David. “Mr. Potter seemed a bit suspicious 
of me anyway, and I can’t blame him, for he never set eyes 
on me before to-day.” 


128 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


“That isn’t it. Tom Potter doesn’t talk much, anyway. 
He tells memore’n he tells any one else, I guess. Ye see, 
we was boys together and have kept up the family acquaint- 
ance ever since. Besides, his wife is Samantha’s sister. 
That somehow brings us more together, I guess.” 

“Oh, is she?” inquired David, striving to be interested. 

“Yes, sir, she is; but then she’s no such woman as 
Samantha. There isn’t another like her the whole length 
o’ either shore o’ the sound.” 

“I can well believe that,” said David, his thoughts for 
the moment reverting to his nephew, whom he had left in 
her care. 

“You’re a discriminatin’ young man,” replied Israel, 
taking a large bite of the corn as he spoke. “That’s the 
reason I took to ye the first time I saw ye. If ye were to 
stay with me till ye found out the difference between a 
spanker an’ an anchor, I’d have more hopes o’ ye still. 
Now, I’m goin’ to tell ye about this business, for I know 
ye’ll be as interested as I am, and may be more.” 

Israel then proceeded to enlarge upon the mechanical 
ingenuity of the man Bushnell, who dwelt at Saybrook. 
After the breaking out of the war he had largely devoted 
his time to the construction of warlike implements, and 
his latest and greatest piece of work had been that which 
he called a “Marine Turtle.” 

This was an “infernal machine,” so constructed that a 
man could sit inside of it and navigate the “Turtle ” under 
water, for that was the plan of its maker. A small maga- 
zihe of gunpowder could be carried in it, and this was so 
arranged that it could be secured to the bottom of some 


DAVID LEARNS ABOUT THE TURTLE^’ 129 

ship which would be approached from beneath. Clock- 
work was connected with the magazine, so made as to move 
a spring and strike the powder and thus set the entire mass 
on fire. The clockwork could be made to act after a suffi- 
cient time had elapsed to give the man who navigated the 
“Turtle” ample time to escape and withdraw from the 
place of danger, after the magazine had been made fast to 
the bottom of the ship which it was designed to blow up. 

David was naturally interested in Israel’s words, and 
when the skipper had explained it all, he said : 

“And you say our men are going to use this ‘ Turtle ’ ? ” 

“That’s what Tom Potter says, an’ he ought to know. 
I’m thinkiiT.” 

“And the ‘Eagle’ is the first boat they’ll try to blow 
up?” 

Israel nodded his head eagerly and was about to say more 
when the attention of all the men was suddenly aroused 
by the approach of the guard, who excitedly reported that 
a small sloop had entered the bay and could be easily seen 
from the shore. 

The camp fire was instantly abandoned and even the sup- 
per was forgotten for the time, as the men all ran to the 
bluff and peered out upon the waters before them. 

The guard had reported correctly, and a small sloop could 
be seen by them all ; but the excitement increased when 
Israel Schenck quietly declared that the entering sloop was 
none other than the “Princess” herself, the fleet little 
craft which only a few hours before had given the “Sa- 
mantha” such a stern chase and from which with so much 

difficulty she had at last escaped. 

I 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE VENTURE OF EZRA LEE 

A lthough the excitement among the men in the camp 
in a moment became intense, not a word was spoken. 
Every man had grasped his gun, and kneeling be- 
hind the evergreens was peering out at the approaching 
sloop and watchful of her movements. Apparently un- 
aware of the interest she was exciting, the fleet little “ Prin- 
cess” swept on up the bay under full sail, and the crowd 
of men upon her deck could be clearly seen from the shore. 
As she kept on in her course and drew away from the bluff, 
the eagerness of the men there to cut her off or venture 
upon an engagement of some kind became more and more 
apparent. Even the leader himself seemed to share in the 
feeling ; but before deciding upon any plan of action he 
turned to Israel and said : 

“What do you think? Shall we take the ‘Samantha’ 
and the whaleboats and try to cut off the impudent little 
hussy before she can get back to the sound?” 

“ No, no,” replied Israel quickly. “ Let her alone, unless 
you have to fight. I wouldn’t give ’em an inkling that you 
had a camp here, unless I was obliged to. You may have 
to do it later, and ’twill be time enough then.” 

“We’d better get ready though,” said Potter, as if he 
was reluctant to give up all thoughts of an engagement. 
“That’s right! That’s right! Put some of yer men 
130 


THE VENTURE OF EZRA LEE 


131 


here where they can use their guns if the ‘ Princess ’ 
sliows any signs o’ try in’ to land her crew ; and I’ll take 
my men and be ready with the ‘ Samantha ’ if she’s 
needed.” 

The suggestion was quickly acted upon, and Israel’s fol- 
lowers took their stand near their vessel, while Tom Pot- 
ter’s men remained upon the bluff in readiness to meet any 
possible attack of the crew of the British sloop. 

The bay could be seen by all, and not long after they had 
taken the positions to which they had been assigned, the 
‘‘Princess” herself could be seen returning, this time 
making swiftly toward the bluffs. Her graceful outlines 
and formidable appearance as she bore rapidly down upon 
the point strongly impressed all the men who were watch- 
ing her every motion. Not a word was spoken, but the 
men grasped their guns more tightly and waited for the 
command to fire. 

Nearer and nearer came the beautiful “Princess,” until 
scarcely a doubt remained in the minds of the watchers 
that it was her intention to land. Doubtless, they thought, 
she must have learned of the camp, though how she had 
obtained her information no one could conjecture. 

She was now in plain sight, and as the men upon her 
deck were all peering eagerly before them, Tom Potter 
motioned to his followers to be ready. His men kneeled 
upon the ground and brought their guns to their shoulders. 
In a moment the time of action would come, and every one 
was ready and waiting for the word. 

Suddenly the “ Princess ” veered in her course and started 
straight for the entrance of the sound. The watchers were 


132 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


not ready for the unexpected movement, and for a moment 
it seemed as if some of them were about to fire upon the 
departing sloop without waiting for the command ; but the 
leader had risen to his feet and was standing where all his 
band could see him, and his whispered protest was heeded, 
and so the danger for the time was averted. 

Not once did the “Princess ” stop in her course, and soon 
disappeared around the point. Even then the men were 
not satisfied that she was really gone, and some of them 
ran swiftly through the woods to a place from which they 
could look far out over the waters of the sound. 

A half-hour later the men returned to the camp and re- 
ported that the “Princess” had indeed departed and was 
headed up the sound toward New York. Then only did 
the camp resume its former state of calm, though some 
were inclined to complain because they had not been bid- 
den to fire Avhen the hated little patrol boat had been such 
an easy and tempting mark. 

Israel and Potter strove to appease their followers by ex- 
plaining how necessary it was tliat the place of the camp 
should not be known by the British ; but the men were 
only partly satisfied, and all through the evening their 
words were heard as they boasted of what they would have 
done if their leaders had only given their consent. 

Meanwhile the little sloop did not return, and probably 
never knew in what danger she had been when the guns of 
the patriots had been aimed at her from behind the ever- 
greens on the bluff, and how nearly they had come to giv- 
ing vent to the feelings with which they regarded the patrol 
boats on Long Island Sound. Doubtless the “Princess” 



*• The men were not satisfied that she was really gone.” 

Page 182. 






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THE VENTURE OF EZRA LEE 


133 


would have given a good account of herself if an engage- 
ment had taken place ; but as it was, the boastings of the 
men in Tom Potter’s camp were not refuted, and in their 
safety they were free to talk of what might have happened 
if they had been left to follow their own desires. 

For a long time that evening David and Israel sat apart 
from their companions and conversed eagerly about their 
own immediate future. At last David said: “I think I’ll 
go back to the city with these men. You’ve been kinder 
to me than I deserve, and I would not put you to any 
further trouble. Besides, I’m inclined to think it will be 
safer, as well as easier, for me to go overland than to at- 
tempt to sail up the sound.” 

“Don’t bother your head about my kindness,” growled 
Israel. “ ’Tain’t for you, for I’d do as much for any other of 
the Continentals. Still, I’m of the opinion that ye’re about 
right when ye say ye’d better go with these men overland. 
There’s no knowin’ how near I can land ye. The sound 
may be full o’ patrol boats by this time, an’ I don’t want to 
keep you away from the army, for every man counts now, 
I’m thinkin’.” 

“You’re right, Israel Schenck, and I sha’n’t forget your 
kindness to me, either. It’ll come in my way to do you a 
favor of some kind, and I shall be only too glad to do it. 
Now, about Alexander ” 

“ Well, what about him ? ” interrupted Israel. “ Saman- 
tha’s got him, and he’s in good hands, I’d have ye fer to 
know. None better this side o’ his own mother.” 

“I know that,” said David quickly; “if he only is in 
her hands still. Somehow I’m fearful that those fellows 


134 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


who set fire to your bam may come back again, and if they 
do, they’ll soon relieve you, and Samantlia too, of your 
charge.” 

“Time enough to think o’ that later, when ye have to,” 
responded Israel, though it was evident from his tone that 
he was not without his own fears concerning the danger to 
which his companion had referred. “Now I’ll tell you 
what I’ll do,” he added. “ If the boy gets along all right, 
as I make no doubt he will. I’ll soon land him where he 
can jine the army and ye won’t want any more word. If 
he doesn’t get along all right. I’ll come an’ bring ye word 
myself. The boy can’t get such care in camp as he’s a 
havin’ now, that’s certain, and ye can let yer mind rest 
easy for a week, for it won’t be more’n that afore ye see 
him for yerself, or hear about him if ye don’t see him.” 

“Thank you! His mother is a widow and the lad is 
fatherless. A man can’t do much better work than to care 
for the widow and the fatherless, you know.” 

“That’s what he can’t. Now I’m goin’ to put out with 
the ‘Samantha’ an’ I’ll be home before mornin’. I think 
you’ll be here for a day or two, an’ then you’ll start for 
New York along with Ezra Lee and some o’ these men.” 

“ Is Ezra Lee coming here ? ” inquired David quickly. 

“That’s what he is. He’s been here an’ gone on to Old 
Lyme to see his folks for a night. Mebbe he thinks it’ll be 
his last chance, an’ I guess he ain’t far wrong. I wouldn’t 
go down in that ‘ Turtle ’ thing o’ his for all the gold in 
the Colonies.” 

Israel rose as he spoke and soon assembled his men. The 
“Samantha” was brought out from her hiding-place and 


THE VENTURE OF EZRA LEE 


135 


made ready for her return. Then the good-byes were 
spoken, after Israel had repeated his promise to David to 
send Alexander, or bring word as to his condition, within a 
week, the sails of the sloop were hoisted, and the “Saman- 
tha” began to disappear in the shadows of the evening. 

When David stretched himself upon the ground for the 
night the exciting events of the day could not for a while 
be forgotten. He thought of his suffering nephew, and at 
times almost blamed himself for leaving him in his trouble. 
Still he had acted for the best, he thought. The lad was in 
no condition to rejoin the army and some one must be 
trusted. Surely no better “ hands,” as Israel had declared, 
could be found than those which belonged to Samantha 
Schenck, and forced to be content, David turned upon his 
side and was soon asleep. 

It was about the middle of the forenoon of the following 
day when Ezra Lee rode into the camp. His coming 
created no special interest among the men, for the most of 
them were ignorant of the perilous voyage he was planning 
to make in the “Turtle.” David, however, looked at him 
keenly and was deeply impressed by the man. He was 
young, not more than twenty-five years of age, of medium 
height, with dark eyes and hair. There was nothing re- 
markable about his appearance, save a sturdy expression in 
his face and the evident muscular strength which was his. 

When Ezra Lee learned that David had been in the bat- 
tle on Long Island and that now he was to accompany him 
on his journey back to New York to resume his place among 
Haslet’s Delawares, his face lighted up with pleasure, and 
David knew in a moment that they w’ould be friends. 


136 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


Nor was his impression lost when they set forth later in 
the day from the camp. A horse had been provided for 
David, and as Ezra Lee and the other two men who were 
to go with them were also mounted, it was not thought 
that the journey would be a long one. 

David and Ezra rode side by side, and the feeling of dis- 
pleasure which the latter manifested when he learned that 
his companion was aware of the attempt he was to make to 
blow up the “ Eagle ” soon gave place to a better one when 
he understood that no one besides Israel and Tom Potter 
had been informed of it. Naturally, in a deed of such dar- 
ing, he was desirous that as few as possible should know 
anything about it until after the attempt had been made. 

The journey was prosecuted without any event of special 
interest occurring, and in the afternoon of the following 
day they rode into Washington’s camp by the Harlem. 
Great was the rejoicing among Haslet’s Delawares at the 
return of their comrade, and for a time David could do 
little but answer the questions that were put to him on 
every side. 

He too had questions to ask, and as he missed many of 
the men from the ranks, his heart was heavy when he 
learned that many of them had fallen in the battle and that 
more were prisoners in the hands of the British. 

David had parted from Ezra Lee with the assurance of 
the latter that he would send him word when his perilous 
attempt was to be made ; but he was hardly prepared for 
the message which came on the following day that that 
very night the “Turtle” would start forth on its strange 
voyage. 


THE VENTURE OF EZRA LEE 


137 


Obtaining permission to enter the city for a time, David' 
hastened to the place where Ezra had informed him he was 
to be found. Others were with him there, and so he had 
almost no opportunities for conversation ; but the daring 
young soldier greeted his friend with a smile and appar- 
ently was as calm and serene as if the night was not to be 
such an eventful one in his life. 

It was about midnight when all things were ready and 
the time was considered opportune. The “Turtle” was to 
start from Whitehall, and David’s surprise was increased 
when he recognized General Washington himself, as well 
as several others of the leaders of the American forces, 
standing on the dock. 

In the distance the dim outlines of the “Eagle,” the 
flagship of Howe’s fleet, could be seen. Tliere was no 
moon and the September night was calm and still. The 
men spoke only in whispers, but it was evident that there 
was a strong feeling of excitement in the little band of 
watchers. 

Ezra Lee was soon ready, and after calmly bidding all 
good-night, took his place inside the “Turtle” and the ma- 
chine was pushed out from the dock and at once disap- 
peared from sight. 

David had resolved to stay in the place where he then 
was until he should learn of his friend’s success or failure, 
and he was not surprised to learn that General Washington 
and the others were also to remain. So in silence the little 
group stood in the darkness, every one peering eagerly out 
over the water and breathlessly watching the “Eagle” in 
the distance. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE RETURN 

I T was about midnight when Ezra Lee ventured upon his 
dangerous enterprise, and though the moon did not 
shine, still the stars and the absence of clouds enabled 
the watchers to see far out over the waters of the harbor. 
The “ Eagle ” and her companion vessels were riding peace- 
fully at anchor, as if no thought of danger had entered the 
minds of their officers. The gentle breeze only slightly ruf- 
fled the surface of the bay, and not a sound could be heard. 
Only in the hearts of the waiting men at Whitehall was 
there any strong excitement, but they too were as silent as 
the silent ships before them. 

Slowly the moments dragged on. The night air took on 
a more pronounced chilliness, but no one heeded that. 
Their eyes were flxed upon Howe’s flagship, and now at 
every moment they expected to hear the sound of the ex- 
plosion which would mean her destruction and that of her 
crew, or else hear the startled call of the watch as he dis- 
covered the presence of a peril as strange as it was unlooked 
for. But the minutes passed into hours, and the hours soon 
began to indicate that the morning was not far distant, and 
still not a sign was seen to indicate the success or failure of 
the brave-hearted young soldier who had so recently left the 
dock. 

David began to feel more and more alarmed. To him all 
138 


THE RETURN 


139 


the time the enterprise had seemed foolhardy ; but as Ezra 
Lee had told him of the plan and had been so confident of 
his ability to execute it he had not had the heart to utter one 
discouraging word. Ezra was about four years younger 
than he, and there had been so much for him to live for. 
The natural danger of war must be faced, and David had 
not one protest to make against that ; but to attempt to blow 
up the British flagship by such an infernal machine as the 
“Turtle ” had seemed to him all the time like a piece of fool- 
ishness. In his anxiety now he blamed himself for not 
having spoken. Perhaps Ezra would not have listened, 
and indeed David had very slight doubts as to that ; but it 
would have freed his own conscience from the reproach 
which took possession of him. 

He could see that his feeling of anxiety was shared by his 
companions. Indeed, some of them had freely expressed 
their opinion that Ezra Lee was doubtless drowned, and 
that, unable to escape from his position, he had been held 
beneath the water by the very weight of the “Turtle.” Still, 
no one departed from the dock, and moved as by a common 
impulse, all were waiting until the rising sun should confirm 
or relieve their worst fears. And the morning would soon 
be upon them. Already there were faint streaks of light to 
be seen in the eastern sky. Even while they noticed these 
the light seemed to spread itself along the horizon and to 
assume some of the most gorgeous colorings. The long 
night was gone, and convinced now that Ezra Lee had per- 
ished, the little group sadly prepared to depart from the 
dock and rejoin their comrades in arms. 

Suddenly David, who had been reluctant to leave, stopped 


140 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


and gazed eagei ly toward Governor’s Island. He liad seen 
several barges setting forth from there, and as he looked more 
closely he could see some object on the surface of the water 
and not far distant from the flagship. His heart almost 
stopped beating in his excitement, and his low exclamation 
caused all of his companions to stop and follow his gaze. 
The object could not be made out distinctly, but all were 
convinced that it was somehow connected with Ezra Lee 
and the “Turtle.” Perhaps it was the floating body of the 
daring young soldier, or it might be only a log going out 
with the tide. 

Eager to discover the purpose of the men in the barges, 
all on the dock stood and waited for the movements to be 
explained. A cry of astonishment escaped their lips when 
they saw the barges suddenly stop then turn about and the 
men begin to pull desperately back toward the shore of 
Governor’s Island. They were in great haste or fear, as 
their movements closely indicated. Even the cry of the 
leader seemed to be heard across the water, and half hoping 
and yet half fearing that they understood the cause of their 
alarm, ^ the men on the dock waited and breathlessly watched 
the swiftly retreating boats. 

“Look there! Look there! See that, will you?” ex- 
claimed David Adams a moment later. 

Only a few yards from the “Eagle” a column of water 
ascended high into the air, then fell to the surface again, 
leaving the waters as calm and unruffled as before. But 
there was an instantaneous excitement on board the 
“ Eagle ” and her companion boats, as was manifest by the 
rapid movements of the men who now rushed on deck. 


THE RETURN 


141 ■ 


Their calls and cries could be heard as the cables were 
swiftly cut and the vessels were permitted to drift out with 
the tide. 

The confusion on board the ships increased each moment. 
The men swarmed over the decks and peered into the water 
as if they expected it to rise beneath them. Some of the 
ships appeared to be under no control, and drifted broadside 
on, or were turned about in the waves. 

The excitement was shared by the band of men on the 
Whitehall dock, but they were unable to perceive whether 
the cause was still to be seen or not. Scarcely a word was 
uttered by them as they stood peering forward through the 
light, which v/as still dim. As the great vessels passed down 
the stream and at last disappeared from sight the excite- 
ment on the dock did not decrease. The one question in 
the minds of all was what had become of young Ezra Lee. 
The magazine had exploded, though not in the proper 
place, and whether it had been by an accident which had 
killed the soldier, or whether he had escaped and the 
powder had been fired after the “Turtle ” had drifted from 
the hull of the “Eagle ” could not be told. 

Unwilling to leave the dock until the truth had been 
learned, if possible, all the men waited and watched the 
surface of the bay for some sign of the daring Lee. An 
hour had passed and he had not been seen, and sadly all 
were coming to the conclusion that he had surely perislied 
in the explosion, when their attention was suddenly called 
to the barges, which had again set forth from Governor’s 
Island and were being swiftly rowed toward some object 
not far away. 


142 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


As they turned to see what it was whicli had attracted 
the attention of the bargemen, David suddenly exclaimed, 
“That’s the ‘Turtle’ ! That’s the ‘Turtle’ they’re after! 
Doesn’t Ezra see them ? Can’t we make him hear ? ” 

Apparently the young soldier must have become aware 
that enemies were near him, for suddenly the object disap- 
peared from sight beneath the water. The barges pulled 
aimlessly about the spot, the men peering down into the 
water all the time, but after a few minutes, convinced that 
the object which had excited their curiosity had indeed dis- 
appeared, the crews reversed their course and rowed slowly 
back to the island, and could no longer be seen by the ex- 
cited watchers at Whitehall. 

Determined to remain longer on the dock, and hoping 
against hope that Ezra Lee might somewhere be able to re- 
gain the shore, they scanned the surface of the water. The 
sunrise had come now, and the sunshine brought out into 
the light all things on the bay. The tide, however, was 
very strong and it seemed scarcely possible that the hardy 
young adventurer would be able to make his way against it. 
Some expressed the opinion that if he succeeded in landing 
at all, it would be farther down the shore, and strongly ad- 
vised that a lookout should be kept there. David was re- 
solved to stay where he was, however, and as the general 
expressed the same determination, the others complied and 
stood silently searching the water for some trace of the 
“Turtle” and its daring navigator. 

Once more their feeling of depression returned when the 
minutes passed and Ezra Lee was not seen. No one spoke, 
but the anxiety manifested itself upon each face, and each 


THE RETURN 


143 


understood how the others felt. Their eyes were seldom 
turned from the water, save to glance down the shore or to 
look for the expression of hope in the faces of the others 
which they themselves were far from feeling. 

It seemed like a very long time before the suspense was 
ended, though in reality it was not many minutes, and they 
perceived in the water before them the ungainly form of the 
“Turtle.” All eagerness then, the men extended their aid 
and soon the structure was brought ashore and Ezra Lee, 
living at least, though almost breathless, was lifted up on 
the dock. Tender hands ministered to his wants, and after 
a brief time the young soldier was able to tell of his adven- 
tures. 

It appeared that he had been successful in navigating the 
“ Turtle,” and had gone beneath the hull of the “ Eagle ” ; 
but he had found her bottom covered with thick copper 
which he was unable to penetrate. He could hear the voices 
of the watch on deck and had even heard them express the 
opinion that some log must have drifted against them, for 
the “Turtle” had struck the “Eagle” with a shock that 
almost overturned the machine itself. 

Ezra Lee had remained beneath the flagship until he had 
become satisfied that it would be impossible to fasten the 
magazine there, and had then visited the other vessels 
anchored near by ; but in every case he had found the 
sheathing too thick to enable him to fasten securely the 
magazine to the bottom, and the attempts had then been 
abandoned. He had returned to the “ Eagle ” and left the 
magazine under her hull, hoping, yet hardly expecting, 
that the tide would hold it in position. He had then 


144 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


started the clock-work and hastily withdrawn, with the 
result that the explosion had occurred at a distance too 
great from the flagship to inflict any damage upon her, and 
also with the result that he himself had been discovered by 
the guard on the shore of Governor’s Island. 

The young soldier’s story was listened to with breathless 
interest by all the men on the dock and when at last it was 
finished. General AVashington himself had been warmest of 
all in his words of praise for the daring displayed. Indeed, 
it came to pass not long afterward that Ezra Lee was selected 
by the general for some of his most important duties, and 
became one of his most trusted scouts and rendered very 
efficient service in the battles of Trenton, Brandywine, and 
Monmouth. He lived until long after the war and died at 
Lyme, Conn., in October, 1821 , aged seventy-two years. 
These details do not, of course, belong to the present story, 
but as the bravery of Ezra Lee is something none of us 
ought ever to forget, all that pertained to him is of interest, 
for heroes are not so plentiful that we can afford to let any 
of them be forgotten. 

Ezra Lee departed from the dock at AVhitehall, and 
David hastened to rejoin his own comrades among Haslet’s 
Delawares. Great were the rejoicings and loud were the 
praises of all when the story became known in the camp. 

The days now passed rapidly with David, and he had 
little time to think, even of his nephew. There were con- 
stant rumors of the approach of the British, and finally 
when a little more than a week had gone, the rumors be- 
came facts. 

General Howe having become satisfied that the rebellious 


THE RETURN 


145 


Colonies would not listen to his overtures for peace, began 
to act. He sent several of his ships-of-the-line up the Hud- 
son as far as Bloomingdale, and others up the East River as 
far as Blackwell’s Island. The gunboats then being in a 
position where they could sweep the city with their fire and 
protect his men while they were landing, Howe ferried his 
troops across from Long Island and landed them at Kipp’s 
Bay, or as it is called in our day. East Thirty-fourth Street. 

Washington acted as promptly as the British general, and 
brought two of the New England brigades to reinforce the 
men who had been stationed at Kipp’s Bay to dispute the 
landing of the British troops, or at least to hinder them long 
enough to enable Putnam and his men, who were then in 
the city to withdraw. But to the disgust and wrath of the 
great general, his men became suddenly panic-stricken as 
the redcoats came in sight, and without waiting to fire a 
single shot suddenly turned and fled. 


K 


CHAPTER XVIII 


CONNECTING LINKS 

T he boasted courage of the men of New England had 
failed at the critical moment, and the British leader 
-had secured an advantage, which if he had been quick 
to use, might have ended the campaign then and there. 
After landing his men, if he had followed up his success at 
once, he could have divided the American army, and with 
his own entire force have destroyed each part, or at least 
have compelled a surrender, which was what the Eng- 
lishmen were hoping for, well aware that if the rebellion 
in the Colonies was to be crushed, it must be speedily. 

But General Howe was easy-going, and as averse to blood- 
shed as he was to speedy action ; and it was the knowledge 
of this very fact by a bold and brave patriot woman — Mis- 
tress Bindley Murray — which led to the overthrow of his 
immediate success. Mistress Murray dwelt at Murray Hill, 
and when General Howe had advanced in his march as far 
as her home, he was met by a servant of the quick-witted 
woman, who invited the British leader to stop and take 
luncheon with her. 

Her invitation was accepted, and for more than two hours 
the mother of the famous grammarian detained General 
Howe in her home. Not only was the luncheon itself de- 
layed and prolonged, but by the exercise of every means in 
her power the ingenious woman interested her guest in her 
146 


147 


CONNECTIis'G tlNKij 

conversation, and when at last the little party broke up, 
the golden opportunity was gone, all of which was simply 
another illustration of the old, old story that when the time 
for action has come the chance must be seized at once. 

General Putnam had swiftly marched with his men up 
the shore of the Hudson and, safely passing the heights of 
Bloomingdale, had joined the main body of the American 
army, though all his stores, heavy guns, and tents had been 
abandoned in his hasty departure. Whether he understood 
what Mistress Lindley Murray was doing, I cannot say, but 
at least he had acted upon the immediate demands of the 
hour, and as General Howe had not only halted himself, 
but all the troops with him as well, by the time the lunch- 
eon was ended the opportunity of the British commander 
had vanished. On such slight events as pivots do some 
of the greatest events of armies and of men turn, and the 
importance of doing the little things well had had another 
illustration in the escape of General Putnam from his 
enemies. 

The British were now in possession of New York City, it 
was true, but they had not separated the American forces 
which, lying a short distance above, were a distinct and 
serious menace. It was much more difficult for Howe to 
act now, for if he should advance in one direction Wash- 
ington could withdraw his troops by the other ; and yet he 
must act. He had a fleet, and his forces greatly outnum- 
bered those of the Continentals. He was aware that some- 
thing decisive would be expected of him, and he was as 
eager as his advisers that the end of the campaign, as of 
the rebellion, should speedily be found. 


148 


A l^mSONER IN BUFF 


His best chance seemed to be to send some of his troops 
up the Hudson beyond the place occupied by the Americans, 
and at the same time to send some up the sound, then the 
two divisions might march across the country, and by gain- 
ing the rear of Washington, cut him off from all further 
retreat, and hemming him in, compel him to surrender. 

There was apparently but little to hinder the advance up 
the Hudson. It was true there .was Fort Washington on 
the eastern bank, while across the river, on the Palisades, 
was Fort Lee, at the former of which was Putnam and his 
men, while the garrison of the latter was commanded by 
Greene. But Howe was not much afraid of either of these 
forts, and thought he could safely pass them both, for the 
river between them was broad, and the Americans were not 
well supplied with cannon. 

Apparently the Americans themselves were of somewhat 
the same opinion, though both generals declared that the 
places could be held, and Putnam began at once to place 
obstructions in the channel, which it was hoped would 
bother, if they did not bar, the approach of Howe. 

The Continentals were spurred on, moreover, by Congress 
and the State Convention of New York, both of which 
bodies were very decided in their opinion that neither Fort 
Washington nor Fort Lee should be abandoned. 

Howe decided to test the matter for himself, and on the 
ninth of October sent two frigates up the Hudson, which 
safely passed both fortresses, and at the same time captured 
several of the American boats which were anchored farther 
up the stream, in their fancied security behind the protec- 
tion of the forts. 


CONNECTING LINKS 


149 


General Howe was not planning to move in that way, 
however, but having satisfied himself that he could go up 
the Hudson whenever he desired, he left Percy in command 
of the men before the heights of Harlem, and he himself, 
with by far the larger body of his troops, went up the sound 
to Throg’s Neck. This was a little point of land which was 
cut off from the mainland by a marsh, which was covered 
with water when the tide was high. Howe’s plan was to 
land suddenly at this place, and then by a swift movement 
gain the rear of Washington’s little army, and so at least 
cut off all his supplies, the most of which were then brought 
from Connecticut. 

But the American leader was as much a “fox” at this 
time as he was a few weeks later, when Lord Cornwallis 
bestowed that title upon him, and he had provided for this 
very movement of Howe’s, for when the latter landed at 
Throg’s Neck, he discovered that the only bridge there had 
been destroyed, and that there was a force of a considerable 
size upon the shore, and that if he should try to dislodge 
them it would be necessary for his men to wade across the 
marsh, which was neither practical nor desirable. 

Still, he would not give up, like the sturdy Briton that he 
was, and remained there for six days, something which 
General Washington was not willing to do, for clearly see- 
ing now just what he had to face, the latter drew all his 
troops to White Plains. 

This movement on his part left New York, and indeed all 
of the island except Fort Washington, to the redcoats. 
Meanwhile he felt a little stronger because Morgan, who 
had been captured, had now been exchanged, and Gen- 


150 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


erals Sullivan, Stirling, and Lee had also come. If the last 
had remained away forever it would have been better for 
Washington, for never was there a greater traitor in all the 
history of our land than Charles Lee proved to be. This, 
of course, was not known at the time, though Washington 
himself could not have been wholly ignorant of the jealousy 
and plottings of the man who was next in command to him- 
self. It is another instance of the large heart which Wash- 
ington possessed, that he tried to banish all thoughts and 
fears of the petty Lee, and endeavored to depend upon men 
whom he knew, as we all know now, he could not trust. 

Perceiving that he could not gain the rear of the army 
before him, Howe decided to attack the line in front, and 
the battle of White Plains followed. It was on the twenty- 
eighth of October when he succeeded in storming Chatterton 
Hill where, on the preceding evening. Haslet’s Delawares 
had been stationed, and among them David Adams. The 
forces were strengthened in the morning and at about ten 
o’clock the British advanced. Several times they tried to 
turn the flank of their enemies after they had gained a 
level place, but were repulsed. The men were fighting 
desperately. For a long time Haslet’s Delawares and their 
companions held their own, but at last when a fresh and 
unexpected force gained their flank, they were forced to 
withdraw, leaving something like a hundred and forty killed 
and wounded behind them, while the redcoats had lost 
almost a hundred more than that number. The Americans 
were now in the intrenched camp in the village, and stirred, 
perhaps, again by the memories of Bunker Hill, Howe did 
not advance. Fighting still continued for two days more. 


CONNECTING LINKS 


151 


but it was not of the character of that seen in the beginning 
of the battle. 

On the thirtieth, Earl Percy came up, and as the British 
forces had already been reinforced, it was decided that on 
the following morning they would all advance and storm 
the position held by the Americans. That night a terrific 
storm broke over the slumbering camps, and quick to take 
advantage of the opportunity, and well aware that he could 
not now long withstand the advance of the redcoats, 
strengthened as they had been, Washington quietly with- 
drew his troops to North Castle, where strong fortifications 
had already been thrown up along the hillsides. 

Again Howe did not deem it wise to venture upon an 
attack when the Americans had so good a position, and so 
he withdrew his forces to the heights near which the Hud- 
son and the Harlem join, his line extending almost to 
King’s Bridge. Soon after, Howe moved down the east 
bank of the Hudson to Dobb’s Ferry, from which place he 
could easily cross into New Jersey or make an attack upon 
Fort Washington, whichever was deemed better. In one 
direction lay the “rebel capital,” as Philadelphia was then 
sometimes called, and in the other was the fort, which 
would be no mean prize of itself. 

Meanwhile, there were reports of fresh troops coming 
from Canada, and to meet them, Washington sent General 
Heath with three thousand men to guard the passes of the 
Highlands. To meet the British in case they should come 
into New Jersey, he sent Putnam with five thousand men to 
the camp near Hackensack, while he left Lee with a larger 
force at North Castle, ordering him at the same time to be 


152 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


ready to act or move instantly, whenever he might be 
needed. 

General Greene was now in command of both Fort Lee 
and Fort Washington. Washington, without giving posi- 
tive orders, in a general way had advised Greene to with- 
draw from Fort Washington and also prepare to leave the 
fort on the Jersey side. He did not order this, however, 
and left much to the judgment of Nathaniel Greene and the 
needs that might arise ; and it was here that Greene made 
the one great mistake of his entire military career. He 
was an able man and true, but like all men it was pos- 
sible even for him to make a mistake. His greatness ap- 
pears in the fact not that he made a mistake, but that he 
never repeated it, and that he learned to profit by it. The 
foolish man is he who keeps on making the same mistake. 
The wise man is he who learns and profits by his own 
errors, who thus knows what to avoid as well as what to 
attempt. 

It is also to be said in Greene’s favor that Congress, which 
thought it knew how the war ought to be conducted, had 
sent a message to him not to abandon Fort Washington, 
and so the unlucky General Greene increased the defenses 
of the fort which Washington had advised him to abandon, 
and prepared to defend it against the British who were now 
advancing upon it. And all the time General Greene be- 
lieved he could hold the place. 

General Washington meanwhile had gone up the river to 
see about a site for the new fort at West Point, which was 
to be erected there to keep back the men who might be 
coming from Montreal to join Howe ; and on the day when 


CONNECTING LINKS 


153 


he returned, to his dismay he heard that the British vessels 
had already gone up the river, and the very next day with 
an immense force Howe appeared before Fort Washington 
and sent in a message that if the whole garrison did not im- 
mediately surrender it would all be put to the sword. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE MESSENGER 

I T was while the American armj'^ was thus beset, that 
Israel Schenck appeared before David Adams. Whence 
he had come or how he had obtained an entrance 
David could not conjecture, nor had he the time or oppor- 
tunity for many questions. 

Once before Israel had come and had reported that the 
young Alexander was doing well under the careful nursing 
of Samantha, but it had not been deemed advisable for him 
to attempt to rejoin the army until he had become stronger 
than he then was. This time, however, as soon as he saw 
the hardy skipper before him, David knew from the expres- 
sion upon his face that something was wrong, and natu- 
rall}’^ his first thought was of his nephew, who had been 
left in Israel’s care. 

“What is it?” he exclaimed, as he recognized the huge 
form of Israel. “Has anything happened? Is Alexander 
worse? Tell me, man, tell me ! ” 

“I’m sorry,” replied Israel soberly; “but it wasn’t 
Samantha’s fault. She did the best she could, and she’s all 
broken up over it too.” 

“ Broken up over what? Speak up, man. Is Alexander 
dead?” 

“ I don’t think he is, though of course I can’t say as to 
that.” 


154 


THE MESSENGER 


155 


“What is it? Why don’t you tell me, Israel? Why do 
you keep me here in this suspense?” 

“ I didn’t know as I was a keepin’ you. I’ve had a time of 
it, I can tell you, gettin’ across the sound and makin’ my 
way into the fort. I didn’t know as I was a keepin’ you,” 
repeated Israel, evidently aggrieved by David’s words. 

“You’re not keeping me,” said David more calmly. 
“That isn’t what I mean; but you’ve got some bad news 
for me, and by holding it back you drive me almost wild. 
Why don’t 3mu just tell me about Alexander? ” 

“ I’d tell ye in a minute if I could.” 

“If you could ! Why can’t jmu tell me? I don’t under- 
stand.” 

“ Why, the way of it’s like this, ye see. Since the lad’s 
left our house ” 

“Left 3'our house!” exclaimed David aghast. “Left 
your house? Where is he now? Is he in the army again? 
Is he here? Be quick, man, and tell me where he is.” 

“I think he’s in the city, that’s where I’m thinkin’ he 
is.” 

“In New York?” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“ How did he get into New York? Is he a prisoner? Is 
that what you mean?” 

Israel nodded his head, but made no other reply. 

For a moment David was silent and almost overcome by 
the information. It was evident that the skipper also was 
strongly moved and deeply chagrined, and it was perhaps 
due to that fact that he had been so reluctant to impart the 
information he had brought. Alarmed as David was, he 


156 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


could yet perceive that the man before him was loth to 
tell him all he knew, and so he strove to appear more calm 
and not betray any sign of anger, of which Israel manifestly 
was in some fear. 

“ ril tell ye how it happened,” said Israel at last. “The 
boy was doing well, as I told ye, for there isn’t another 
such nurse on Long Island as Samantha Schenck, if I do 
say it. He was pickin’ up right along, and gettin’ to be as 
smart as you please. He was all the time talkin’ of you, 
and of getting back among Haslet’s Delawares, and Saman- 
tha had agreed that the next week he could put out, he 
seemed so set on the notion. 

“Well, they hadn’t been troubled a bit by the Tories, 
and in fact they seemed to have forgotten all about their 
other visit there at the house. But it wasn’t to last, I’m 
thinkin’, leastwise it didn’t last, it seems, for day afore 
yesterday a party of ’em showed up in the afternoon and 
just made the lad go along with them. Samantha, she pro- 
tested and took on hard. She begged on ’em to let him off, 
and told how' he’d been hurt in the fight, and that she was 
a nursin’ him back to health. I wasn’t there, ye see, and 
that made things a good deal worse. 

“But the beggars wouldn’t listen to a word she said. 
They just declared that he was a Continental soldier, and 
that he’d have to go along with them. They even threat- 
ened to burn up the house if she didn’t keep still, but she 
didn’t ‘ keep,’ fer it isn’t a bit like Samantha to stop talkin’ 
when she’s got anything to say ; I know that myself, and I 
ought to know. I’m thinkin’, seein’ as how I’ve been her 
husband nigh onto thirty year. Well, in spite of all Sa- 


THE MESSENGER 


157 


mantha could do or say they made the young chap go off 
with ’em. When I got home last night she would have it 
that I must come straight here and tell you all about it. 
So I’m here, ye see, and a pretty rough time I had of it too, 
a gettin’ here. ’Bout as rough as I ever knew since I’ve 
lived in these parts.” 

“You must have had,” said David quietly. 

It was all he could say at the time, for he was almost 
overcome by the message which Israel Schenck had 
brought. Alexander was a prisoner in the hands of the 
British, that much seemed to be true at all events. It had 
been several weeks since he had seen the lad, and when he 
had left him his own heart had been filled with anxiety for 
his nephew. He could still see his pale face and bruised 
head. And to think, after all their efforts and the success- 
ful escape which had been made from the battlefield, that 
he had at last been carried away a prisoner. The very 
thought seemed to be more than could be borne. Where 
was Alexander now? David shuddered as the question 
presented itself to his mind, and then looking up into the 
face of the man before him, he said : “ What do you think, 
Israel ? What have they done with the boy ? ” 

“That’s more than I can say,” replied Israel evasively. 

“You have your opinion though. You said he was 
probably in the city by this time.” 

“Did I say that? Well, maybe I did, for I don’t just 
recollect.” 

“You haven’t any more doubt than I have that he’s 
there though, have you?” 

“I think it’s more’n'likely that’s where they took him.” 


158 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


“ Of course you do. The report iii the army here is that 
the jails are all filled with our men, and tliat they have had 
to use other places too to put them in.” 

“So I hear.” 

“Have you heard that the sugar houses and churches 
were used as jails?” 

“ I believe I have heard something of the kind.” 

“ Can anything be done, Israel ? ” 

“Not very much, I fear, unless he takes his chances 
when the men are exchanged.” 

“Exchanged? ThereTl not be much exchanging. I’m 
thinking. Poor Alexander ! What will his mother think? 
And she put him in my care too ! ” 

“And you left him in mine, or rather in Samantha’s, 
which is all one and the same thing.” 

Israel spoke gloomily and plainly shared in David’s feel- 
ing of depression ; and, indeed, there was not much that 
was cheering in the outlook. The present condition of the 
army was itself desperate, but bad as it was, that of the 
prisoners was worse. 

For a moment the two men stood and silently regarded 
each other, and then Israel said : “I can find out where he 
is, I think, and how he's gettin’ on, and I’ll do it too, for 
Samantha’s sake as well as yours, for she took a wonderful 
shine to the lad. She’s all broke up over it, as I told ye ; 
but I’m sure I can find out about him,” 

“ You can ? I don’t see how.” 

“Well, there’s more’n one way of doin’ things, I’m 
thinkin’, and I reckon some o’ them Britishers won’t be 
un willin’ to buy some Long Island clams and oysters.” 


THE MESSENGER 


159 


“ You mean you’ll go into the city with oysters to sell, 
and will find out about Alexander at the same time. Is 
that what you mean?” 

“That isn’t what I said; but if I don’t go myself, I’ll 
have somebody go and he’ll find out for me. And then 
just as soon as I know more, I’ll come over and report to 
you.” 

“ I don’t know where I’ll be by that time. A good many 
don’t think we’ll ever hold this fort, and I may be a pris- 
oner too, before twenty-four hours have gone.” 

“ We’ll have to take some chances,” said Israel sturdily. 
“That’s about the best way we can fix it, I’m thinkin’. 
You can’t go there yourself, and you’ll just have to farm 
out the job to somebody, and perhaps I sha’n’t be the worst 
man to whom you can let it.” 

“You’re a true man!” said David eagerly, grasping Is- 
rael’s hand as he spoke. “If we ever get out of this, you’ll 
not be the one to lose by what you’ve done.” 

“Drop that, I say ! ” said Israel brusquely. “ You’re not 
hirin’ me. I’m a actin’ of my own free will and accord, 
and Samantha’s too.” 

It was finally agreed that Israel’s proposal should be acted 
upon, and soon after the skipper, whose heart was as kind 
as his manners were rough, departed from Fort Washington 
to attempt to return to his home. 

Not long after he was gone the attack on the fort was be- 
gun. Howe had been informed by a deserter of the exact 
condition of affairs within the American lines, and his call 
for a surrender was born of a desire to avoid bloodshed. 
He knew that his forces outnumbered the little garrison 


160 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


more than five to one, and that the latter would have no 
chance at all against his well-trained veterans. 

But Colonel Magraw, who was now in temporary com- 
mand of the fort, sent back word in response to the British 
general’s demand, that if he wanted the fort he must come 
and take it for himself, a suggestion which Howe at once 
proceeded to accept. 

General Knyphausen, with five thousand Hessians, was 
to move on the fort from the north, while at the same time 
Loi-d Percy, with another division of the Hessians and the 
best of the British troops, was to advance from the south. 
At the same time Cornwallis and Mathews were to cross 
the Harlem River, and with the grenadiers under the pro- 
tection of the cannon, which had already been planted 
upon the hills, land above the fort. All these details were 
successfully carried out. 

A desperate conflict followed. The Americans fought 
gallantly from their works, but they could not long with- 
stand such overwhelming numbers as pressed upon them. 
Before the end came, five hundred of the attacking party 
had fallen and only a hundred and fifty of the Americans ; 
but the fort was at last surrendered and three thousand of 
the best troops in Washington’s army were added to the 
prisoners the British had previously taken. 

Howe had not meant what he said, “That if the gar- 
rison did not surrender all the men would be put to the 
sword.” His heart was too warm and his nature too kind 
for such wanton cruelty as that ; but the Hessians, who 
either did not understand the order or were driven to mad- 
ness by the determined resistance the Continentals had 


THE MESSENGER 


161 


made, began to use the bayonet on the defenseless men 
after they had surrendered. Howe put a stop to this out- 
rage as soon as he learned what they were doing ; but it 
was too late to prevent a stain upon the men who were 
guilty of the breach of faith and the murder of defenseless 
prisoners. 

Washington, on the other side of the river, had watched 
the contest from the heights of Fort Lee and had not uttered 
a word when the surrender had occurred, though he must 
have suffered intensely. But when he saw his defenseless 
men bayoneted by the infuriated hiessians, the tears 
coursed down his cheeks and he wept like a child. 

It was a terrible blow which had befallen the Americans 
— one of the most severe in all the war. Not only were 
three thousand men made prisoners' but also all their arms 
and stores fell into the liands of the enemy. 

It seemed as if the end had indeed come now. Wash- 
ington had only about six thousand men with him in New 
Jersey, and though Lee liad seven thousand more on the 
farther bank of the Hudson, the treachery of tlie man in 
command only added to the dire straits in which Washing- 
ton then was. 

The British were correspondingly elated, as th.ey might 
well have been. The name of Fort Washington was 
changed to Knyphausen, and with their three thousand 
prisoners, the redcoats felt that triumph was sure. Still, 
Howe prepared to continue the contest, and sent his pris- 
oners back to the city. And among them marched David 
Adams, wounded, helpless, hopeless, and forlorn. 


L 


CHAPTER XX 


Samantha’s decision 

T here were strange weeks and stranger deeds which 
now speedily followed. The little remnant of the 
American army soon abandoned Fort Lee and fled be- 
fore the redcoats and Hessians across New Jersey. Appar- 
ently the victory had been won by the sturdy forces of 
the king, and all that remained was to capture the little 
band of “rebels” of whom George Washington was looked 
upon as chief. 

But a strange interruption came when, on the Christmas 
Eve of 1776, Washington had led his forces across the Dela- 
ware and fallen upon the unsuspecting Hessians wdio had 
been left at Trenton by the over-confident Cornwallis, and 
soon more than a thousand of the “ Dutch butchers” w^ere 
prisoners in the hands of the American general. 

The victory at Trenton had been quickly follow^ed by 
that at Princeton, and then Washington, strong enough to 
withstand the urgings of his men intoxicated by their suc- 
cess, had gone with all his forces into winter quarters at 
Morristown, and both armies were w^aiting for the return of 
spring before hostilities should be renew’ed. 

It had been a sad and complete overturning of the hopes 
and plans of the British leaders. Confident that the rebel- 
lion had been crushed, Cornw^allis had already made ar- 
rangements before the battle at Trenton to sail for England 
162 


Samantha’s decision 


163 


and report the glad news to the ministers of King George. 
“The Fox,” as Lord Cornwallis had aptly termed the 
American commander, had changed all that, and new hope 
and inspiration had come to the cause of the struggling 
Colonies. 

Howe tried by every means known to him to bring on an 
engagement with the American forces in northern New 
Jersey ; but Washington was too wily to be caught in that 
trap, for he was well aware that he had everything to lose 
and but little to gain by such risks. As the warmer days 
drew on, Howe, who was desirous of attacking Philadel- 
phia, did not dare to march with his men across New Jer- 
sey, for fear that Washington might attack him on the 
flank. In the summer, however, he embarked eighteen 
thousand men on transports at Staten Island, and after 
leaving a sufficient garrison to hold New York City, sailed 
away, no one knew just where. 

In increasing anxiety Washington was compelled to wait 
in New Jersey until he lieard that the British vessels had 
been seen in Chesapeake Bay. Up this bay Howe’s fleet 
sailed, and landing at Elkton, he started with his army for 
Philadelphia. He had not dared to enter the Delaware 
River, because the Americans had filled it with obstruc- 
tions. 

As soon as the news of Howe’s movements was con- 
firmed, Washington hastened with liis army to the de- 
fense of Philadelphia. Of his battles with the British near 
that city we cannot here write, as they have no immediate 
connection with this story. 

While these exciting events were threatening, in one of 


164 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


the old sugar houses in New York which, owing to the 
crowded condition of the jails, had with some of the 
churches been hastily transformed into prisons, there were 
two prisoners in whom we are especially interested. 

In the fourth story of Van Cortland’s sugar house was 
young Alexander Gray. For some unexplained reason he 
had been able to withstand the sufferings and privations 
of the prison life in the early part of his confinement far 
better than the most of his companions ; but when the 
warmer days of the spring returned he weakened, and the 
signs of the prison fever began to appear in his hollow 
cheeks and shining eyes. 

All through the winter in the stor}-^ beneath him had been 
his Uncle David, likewise held as a prisoner of war. Not 
once had either seen the other or suspected that the one 
of whom he was thinking through the weary hours of the 
slowly passing days was so near. Perhaps it was as well, 
for David, wounded severely in the fight at Fort Washing- 
ton, had suffered keenly in the prison life, and late in Feb- 
ruary had given up the struggle. One morning his dead 
body had been carried out of the gloomy building, and 
with others who likewise had been unable to endure more, 
had been borne away in an ox-cart and buried, no one of 
his companions knew where. Indeed, they were not much 
moved by the sight, for the spectacle of the ox-cart was a 
familiar one now, and its appearance was expected with 
every rising sun. Hopeless and dull eyes looked out from 
the prison windows ; but no man spoke, for each was per- 
haps wondering how^ soon his own turn to be a silent pas- 
senger in the rude cart would come. 


Samantha’s decision 


165 


» V 

Young Alexander had never known of the near presence 
of his uncle, and consequently had no thoughts of the sad 
scene on the floor beneath him on that February morning. 
His own sufferings and the sympathy for his mother who 
could not know, he thought, of the plight of her soldier 
boy, had kept his mind busy ; and as for David, there were 
no misgivings or anxieties about him. “Uncle Dave,” he 
was fully satisfied, could always take care of himself. 

As the dreary days passed and the sunshine took on the 
golden color of spring, even the thoughts of his mother 
ceased to trouble the young prisoner, for the fever was upon 
him, and almost listless he now never exiDected to obtain 
a release from the prison until he should be released as he 
had seen so many before him. 

It was at this very time when one day Israel Schenck, in 
the late twilight, sailed into the little cove near his home, 
and after carefully concealing his sloop, had started to see 
the living Samantha once more. His visits had been less 
frequent of late and never made without danger, for the 
suspicions of his Tory neighbors had been increased by the 
report of the capture of a young “rebel,” whom it was said 
Israel and his wife had sheltered after the battle of Long 
Island. It was in a measure, at least, because of these 
things that Israel’s visits now were made in the night, and 
that he seldom remained until daybreak. On this partic- 
ular night it was evident that the huge skipper was sadly 
troubled, for his usual caution seemed to be abandoned, 
and instead of keeping a sharp lookout before him, he pro- 
ceeded with downcast head, and frequently some ejacula- 
tion of sorrow or of anger escaped his lips. 


166 


A PKISONEK IN BUFF 


However, he was not molested, and soon arrived at his 
home, where he received a welcome from the waiting and 
anxious Samantha which was after her most characteristic 
fashion. 

“ Where ye been, Israel?” she demanded sharply as the 
skipper entered. “Ye jest keep me on pins an’ needles all 
the time. As if I hadn’t had woriiment enough to shake 
every nerve in my body of late without youi* adding to my 
troubles ! ” 

“ What would you have, Samantha?” inquired her hus- 
band kindly. “ Ho you wish me to slay at home with 
you? ” 

“There! I declare if that isn’t jest like a maul Ye 
know I couldn’t bear it to have you here all the time. Ever 
since those cowardly Tories took my poor, sick boy away, 
I’ve been in mortal terror for fear they’d get you too. What 
would Ido without you, Israel?” 

Samantha’s tones were still sharp, but there were tears in 
her eyes, and it was evident that her husband understood 
that it was by her brusque ways that the tender-hearted 
woman really strove to conceal her own weakness. 

“I’m afraid, Samantha,” said Israel, dropping his voice 
and speaking very gently, “that you wouldn’t be the only 
woman to suffer such losses in these terrible times.” 

“ What do you mean ? You’ve got some bad news, Israel 
Schenck. You can’t fool me, for I know you, Israel Schenck, 
better than you know yourself. Now what is it? Don’t 
stand there like a stupid schoolboy, afraid to do his man- 
ners. Tell me what it is. You just keep me standin’ here 
in silence and suspense.” 


Samantha’s decision 


167 


Samantha paused in her preparations for her husband’s 
supper, and her heaving bosom and labored breathing alike 
betrayed her excitement. 

“I don’t know about the silence, Samantha,” began 
Israel, “ but I’ve a notion ” 

“ There ! I declare if that isn’t man-like for all the world ! 
Israel Schenck, will you tell me the news, good or bad? 
Here I am cooped up in this house like a hen with one 
chicken — no, I mean like a hen what wants to set, but 
hasn’t any chicks at all — and not a livin’ soul to speak to 
from one day’s end to the next. And here you come home 
full o’ news, and leave me here standin’ silent before you, 
though you know as well as I do that you’ve got something 
to say that I ought to hear. Come, Israel, tell me what it 
is,” she added more gently. 

“I’ve heard from the sugar house, Samantha.” 

“You have ? Well, what did ye hear? How did ye hear 
it? Who told ye ? How’d ye get the news? Has iny boy 
been exchanged? If you aren’t jest like a man, Israel 
Schenck, for all the world ! ” 

“ Anybody’d think you’d be better pleased, Samantha, if 
I was like a woman, to hear you talk.” 

“You wouldn’t stand there shut up like a clam at low 
water if you was, anyway, Israel Schenck ! If you’d got 
news to tell, you’d tell it, an’ not have to have it all picked 
out o’ ye bit by bit.” 

“I think you’re right, Samantha,” replied her husband 
humbly. “ Well, the truth of it is that Jack went into the 
city to-day to sell some onions, and he managed to learn 
something about what was goin’ on in the sugar house.” 


168 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


“Well, what did he learn? Gracious me! If I wasn’t 
the most endurin’ o’ women I don’t know what would 
happen to you, Israel Schenck ! You’re enough to try the • 
patience of saints and angels.” 

“Which class do you belong to, Samantha?” queried 
Israel, glancing quizzically at her as he spoke, though his 
glance expressed, ratlier than concealed, his pride in her. 

“I don’t make any pretensions to belong to either; but 
if trials ’ll make ’em, I ought, by good rights, to have a 
good share in both.” 

“Well,” resumed Israel, “Jack brought word about our 
boy. He’s sick.” 

“Got the fever?” 

“ Yes.” 

“That’s just what I expected ! I’ve been lookin’ for it 
all the time, and the wonder to me is that he hasn’t come 
down with it afore this. Has he got it bad?” 

“Jack didn’t know; but any of it is bad enough, I’m 
thiukin’. Jack said they said he was only threatened with 
it, or was just a cornin’ down.” 

“ ’Tis all one and the same thing. Mercy me ! The poor 
boy will die. Our Benjy would a’ been about his age if he 
hadn’t been drowned, wouldn’t he?” 

“Yes.” 

Israel spoke softly, for the mention of their only child - 
never failed to bring tears to his eyes. Many years had 
passed since that day when they had discovered his body 
floating in the little dock which Israel owned, but the sense 
of the loss was still keen, and Israel’s sorrow had never 
been healed. 


Samantha’s decision 


169 


For a moment both were silent, and then Samantha said 
gently : “Somehow I was thinkin’ of Benjy all the time I 
was a carin’ for Alexander. And that night when the Tories 
came and got liiin, and he went off with ’em, so patient like 
and never sayin’ a word, I was a thinkin’ of our own poor 
boy too.” 

“ ’Twouldn’t a done him any good if he had spoken. He 
just had to go, and that’s all there was to it, I’m thinkin’.” 

“ I suppose so,” said Samantha, wiping her eyes with the 
corner of her apron as she spoke. “Now, Israel Schenck, 
what are you goin’ to do about it?” 

“About what?” 

“About this poor sick boy, of course.” 

“Me? I don’t know as I’m going to do anything about 
it ; mostly because there isn’t anything I can do, I’m 
thinkin’.” 

“Yes, there is something you can do, and you’re goin’ to 
do it too ! ” 

“I don’t know what it is. They won’t give him up, even 
if I could go into the city and ask for him, which you know 
as well as I do I can’t.” 

“No one but a man would ever think of going into the 
city.” 

“ Well, what am I to do then?” 

“You’re to go to Philadelphy and tell his ma, that’s what 
you’re goin’ to do.” 

“AVho? Me?” 

“Yes ; you ! ” 

“ Now look here, Samantha, I’m willin’ to do all in reason 
for that boy, just as willin’ as you are, but there’s no sense 


170 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


in that. Not a bit o’ sense. I don’t know his ma, and I 
shouldn’t know where to look for her if I was ever so lucky 
as to get into the town.” 

“I’ve thought it all out, Israel, and there’s no use in 
talkin’ any more about it. You’ve just got to go.” 

“ Oh, I have, have I? Well, when do I start? ” 

“This very night.” 

“ Do I go by land or water? ” 

“ What a question ! If you weren’t a man you’d never 
ask it! You’re to go in the Samantha, and what’s more 
Samantha is goin’ with ye.” 

“ You goin’, Samantha? Ye can’t mean it.” 

“Well, I do mean it. Now I’ll fix up something for us 
to eat on the way, and you go right over and get Sam and 
Jack to go with us, an’ we’ll set sail before mornin’ light. 
Come, Israel ! Ye haven’t a minute to lose. I’m thinkin’ 
all the time about that poor boy’s ma, and she’s just got to 
hear about him.” 

“’Twon’t do her any good if she does hear,” protested 
Israel feebly. 

“ You don’t know what you’re sayin’, Israel Schenck I 
Anyway, we’re goin’ to start to-night. Now you eat your 
supper and then go and get your men, and then come back 
here and carry the baskets down to the sloop. I’ll be ready 
for ye when ye come, never fear.” 

Israel Schenck obediently seated himself at the supper 
table, but even his hunger could not prevent him from cast- 
ing frequent glances of surprise and admiration at his help- 
meet, who at once began to busy herself in the preparations 
for the proposed voyage. 



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Oh, I have, have I ?’ ” Page 170 







CHAPTER XXI 


THE LANDING OF THE SLOOP 

T he determined manner in which Samantha Schenck 
set about her task of providing provisions for the un- 
expected voyage to Philadelphia left no doubt in her 
husband’s mind that he must yield to her demand, and not 
a protest was uttered while he was seated at the table. In- 
deed, if the truth were known, perhaps Israel himself was 
as eager to aid the suffering young prisoner as was his ener- 
getic wife. There were, however, some misgivings in his 
heart to which he did not give utterance, but he was none 
the less troubled by them. 

If Alexander was sickening with the fever, of which fact 
he had no doubt, would a voyage to Philadelphia be of any 
real service to him? The voyage itself would require sev- 
eral days, and then, if they were so fortunate as to find 
Mrs. Gray in the city, for her home and whereabouts were 
alike unknown, her return with them would also consume 
several days more, and by that time what would be the 
condition of the 5muthful prisoner? Evenif he were alive 
and his mother should succeed in entering New York, what 
could she do? Her pleadings were not likely to avail 
unless the disposition of the men in command changed 
sharply ; and that was a prospect not in the least i^robable 
to the mind of the troubled skipper. 

Still Samantha seemed determined to go, and as Israel 

171 


172 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


had little to do, for of late his fleet little sloop had not been 
busied in carrying supplies to the camp from along the Con- 
necticut shore, and his own feelings had been strongly en- 
listed in behalf of the young Continental, he was more 
willing to yield than he would have been at any other 
time. 

As soon as he had eaten his supper, he rose and passed 
out of the house without speaking to his busy wife. It 
was almost midnight when he returned with his two com- 
panions, and without delaying, except to see that the house 
was carefully closed and barred, the three men shouldered 
their burdens, and accompanied by the active Samantha, 
started for the place where the sloop was hidden. 

The little party moved silently forward in the dim light, 
and though not a word was spoken, both Israel Schenck 
and his wife glanced frequently back at the house they 
were leaving behind them. Would they ever behold it 
again? Who could say? The enterprise before them was 
a perilous one, and it was also more than likely that their 
enemies, flnding the house abandoned, might set fire to it, 
and if Israel and Samantha were ever so fortunate as to 
return they might find only the ashes of the home which 
once had been theirs. 

There was no live stock to be cared for, for all had long 
since been killed or otherwise disposed of, not even a 
chicken remaining upon the place. There was therefore 
no anxiety on that score ; but the unknown dangers which 
lay before them, not less because unknown, were sufficient 
to keep their tlioughts busy, and not a word had been 
spoken until after the provisions had all been safely stored 


THE LANDING OF THE SLOOP 


173 


on board the sloop, and the fleet little craft had glided out 
under full sail upon the silent waters of Long Island Sound. 

Then as Israel headed his boat up the sound, Samantha 
for the first time broke in upon the stillness. “ Where ye 
goin’, Israel Schenck?” she demanded. ‘‘Ye act as if you 
were bound for Montauk Point. Philadelphy doesn’t lie 
in that direction.” 

“ I know it,” replied Israel calmly. 

“ What ye goin’ there for then, I’d like to know?” 

“There isn’t any other way to go. The patrol boats are 
on the watch and we’ ve got to steer clear of them, and the 
only thing we can do is to go around the island. You’d 
soon be w'ith Alexander, instead of seein’ his ma, if I was 
to try to slip by Sandy Hook.” 

“But we’ll lose a whole day, and maybe two of ’em,” 
protested Samantha. 

“So we shall, but it can’t be helped.” 

Israel spoke quietly, but Samantha well knew what she 
had to expect w hen her husband used that tone of voice, 
and there w^ere barriers in the home life which even she, 
with all her zeal, did not care to cross. Indeed, her own 
voice had already perceptibly changed, and it w'as evident, 
whatever her powers in the home may have been, that on 
board the sloop Israel w^as master, and she clearly recog- 
nized that fact. 

“Now, Samantha,” resumed Israel, a moment later, 
“’tisn’t any place for you here. You’re only in the way, 
and the best thing for you to do is to go into the cabin and 
go to sleep. Ye might jest as w^ell be a restin’ as not, for 
ye can’t do anything to help us, and Jack and Sam and P 


174 


A PEISONER IN BUFF 


can tend to the wants o’ this Samantha if you’ll look after 
the other one.” 

Without a remonstrance Samantha Schenck obeyed her 
husband’s word, and soon was sleeping soundly in the rude 
little cabin. It was broad daylight when she appeared on 
deck again, and for a moment stood and looked wonder- 
ingly about her. 

A strong, steady breeze was blowing and the sloop 
bounded over the waves as if she too shared in the eager- 
ness of the woman for whom she had been named to carry 
the sad message to the lonely widow in her grief. It was 
now late in May and the air was warm and soft. In the 
dim distaiiTje lay the shores of Long Island, but they were 
indistinct, and even if their outlines could have been dis- 
cerned, they would have been unfamiliar to the sturdy 
woman on the sloop, for she had never before been where 
she then was. 

The rising sun, the strong breeze, and the swift move- 
ments of the boat all combined to increase the exhilara- 
tion of Samantha, and it almost seemed to her as if their 
expedition could not fail. Her interest in the young pris- 
oner was so intense and her desire to see his “ ma ” was so 
strong that for the time she could not question the success 
of their efforts. But Samantha Schenck knew little of the 
true condition of the country, and perhaps her very igno- 
rance increased her delight in the exciting events through 
which she was passing. 

“ Been sick any, Samantha?” queried Israel, as his wife 
appeared. 

“Sick? Who? Me sick? ’Twill take more’ n Long Is- 


THE LANDING OF THE SLOOP 


175 


land Sound to do that. I’m liungry, that’s what I am, and 
I’ll get yer breakfast for ye, the first thing I do.” 

“ So say we all of us,” said Israel, with a laugh. “That’s 
where we gain, ye see, from having a woman cook aboard. 
Want me to bring in the kindlings? ” 

Samantha laughed, for the bright sunshine and the morn- 
ing air combined to make all ready for the meal, and be- 
sides not a sign of danger had yet appeared. Once in the 
night, so Israel reported, a strange sail had been sighted ; 
but it had not long been seen, and when it faded out in the 
darkness, the fears which its apiDearance had aroused had 
disappeared with it. 

The energetic woman soon had the breakfast ready, and 
as the men fell to with a will, Samantha’s delight increased. 
“It’s like throwin’ snow into a millpond to set victuals 
before you, Israel Schenck,” she declared. “If that’s the 
way you eat when you’re off on a cruise, I don’t see how 
you carry any cargo. I shouldn’t think there’d be any 
room for anything besides your food.” 

Israel only laughed by way of reply ; but as soon as the 
breakfast had been eaten he ordered his men into the cabin 
to secure such sleep as might be had. 

It almost seemed as if Providence favored their every 
move. The days were clear and the wind held fair and 
seemed to veer whenever they desired a change. The fleet 
little sloop sped on before the breeze and not an accident 
or an adventure of any kind occurred before she entered 
the waters of Delaware Bay. 

The three men for the most part remained on duty during 
the nights, and by turns in the daytime entered the cabin 


176 


A PRISONER m BUFF 


and slept the sleep of the just. There were hours together 
when Samantha insisted upon all her companions retiring 
while she herself held the tiller and guided the sloop, prom- 
ising to call her husband at the first sign of approaching 
danger. 

On the third day they sailed up Delaware Bay, and as 
they entered the river they were halted for the first time. 
Patrol boats, this time of their friends, were keeping a care- 
ful outlook and the strange sloop was soon halted. 

Israel Schenck, however, had a paper in his pocket 
signed by the great Washington himself which soon cleared 
the way, and after he had learned of the obstructions 
which had been placed in the river, he declined the offer 
of a pilot, as he was himself thoroughly familiar with 
the Delaware and could himself hold his sloop to her course. 

It was about the middle of the afternoon when the “ Sa- 
mantha” was made fast to the dock, and they knew the 
first part of their voyage had been accompli slied. The 
most perplexing of all their problems was now to be faced, 
and as they realized that fully, their anxiety naturally was 
increased. Where Alexander’s mother lived was unknown. 
All they knew about her was that her name was IVIistress 
Gray, and according to the word of her brother David, she 
must be a woman of wealth. 

The search must be begun at once, Samantha Schenck 
concluded, and all her assertiveness, which had been held 
in abeyance throughout the voyage, now came to the front 
again. And it was well for all that it did, for Israel, how- 
ever much he might feel at home on board his sloop, was 
now the picture of helplessness. 


THE LANDING OF THE SLOOP 


177 


Samantha was equal to the emergency, and as soon as the 
sloop had been well looked to, she said: “Now, Israel, I 
want all three of you men to start and look for Mistress 
Gray. The sooner you find her the better, I’m thinkin’.” 

“Where shall we look, Samantha?” said Israel help- 
lessly. 

“There ! I declare if that isn’t just like a man ! Look ! 
Why look in the city here. What did we come for, I’d like 
to know?” 

“But where shall we look ?” 

“ Anywhere. Everywhere. You’ll find somebody who’ll 
know where a rich widow lives. Ye can’t fail. Start out, 
all three o’ ye, and come back in an hour and a half, no 
matter whether ye hear anything or not.” 

The men departed obediently, though it was evident from 
the expressions upon their faces that they were at a loss to 
know where to go or what to do. Samantha pretended to 
ignore them all, but when the men had been gone for an 
hour she began to be anxious. She nervously paced the 
dock, peering keenly about her in all directions, and when 
at last she saw Jack approaching she knew at once from his 
dejected manner that he had met with no success. 

A few minutes afterward Sam appeared, but he too had 
nothing to report ; and when Israel rejoined them a little 
later, and lie too could only report failure, Samantha’s ire 
began to rise again. 

“Such men!” she declared. “But then I might have 
known it. Israel Schenck can’t find a coat when it’s hang- 
in’ on a peg straight before his eyes. Of course he couldn’t 
find Alexander’s ‘ma.’ ” 

M 


178 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


“ We looked everywhere and asked every one,” pleaded 
the downcast skipper. 

“ Ye think ye did ! ” retorted Samantha sharply. “ Now 
all three of ye stay here and I’ll go myself. Alexander’s 
‘ma’ might live close to the dock here, but you wouldn’t 
find her. I’m goin’ myself, that’s what I’m goin’ to do.” 

“It’ll be dark before long. Hadn’t ye better wait till 
mornin’ ? ” suggested Israel. 

Samantha made no reply, but seizing her shawl, at once 
started resolutel}’^ up the street. 

“Better let her go. She’ll have her way, anyhow,” ex- 
plained Israel, as he seated himself with his companions in 
the sloop and prepared to wait for the return of his wife, 
who had soon disappeared from their sight. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE END OF THE SEARCH 

S AMANTHA’S confidence did not desert her until she 
had gone several squares from the dock where she 
had left her husband and his two companions. Then 
she realized that she was indeed in a strange city, and her 
unfamiliar surroundings almost began to appall her. She 
even had neglected to inquire the name of the street at the 
foot of which was the dock where the sloop had been made 
fast. The people who passed her sometimes turned and 
peered curiously at the strange woman ; but though no one 
was rude to her, still she was left to herself, and her per- 
plexity every moment increased. AVhere she was to go, or 
to whom she was to apply for information, were both alike 
unknown ; and as she moved on through the street, if the 
truth were known it would have shown that even her heart 
was filled with misgivings. 

Still Samantha did not stop, and gazing curiously about 
her at the strange sights in the city, had by this time placed 
a considerable distance between herself and the sloop. Her 
dejection increased and soon was no longer to be concealed, 
and she was about to retrace lier steps and go back and beg 
Israel to come with her, when she was startled by hearing 
some one address her. 

“ My good woman, you seem to be in trouble. Can I be 
of any assistance to you?” 


179 


180 


A PRISOJTER IN BUFF 


A tart reply rose to her lips and she was ready with her 
usual protest against being termed “good”; but as she 
glanced at the speaker her voice failed her and the sharp 
words were not spoken. The man before her was a benevo- 
lent-appearing old gentleman and his kindly face was so 
evidently filled with sympathy for her that Samantha 
Schenck was silent for a moment before she replied. 

“I want to know where the folks live here. I don’t 
seem to be able to find out,” she said, at last. 

The old man could not repress his smile as he said kindly : 
“Perhaps I may be able to aid you. For whom were you 
searching? ” 

“ I want to find Alexander’s ma.” 

Again the old man’s face lit up with a smile as he said : 
“Yes? And who is Alexander, if I may ask ?” 

“Alexander? Oh, yes, I forgot ye didn’t know him. 
Well, I’m lookin’ for his ma, and I guess her name’s Gray, 
seein’ as her boy’s got that name.” 

“You are looking for a INIistress Gray then, I under- 
stand.” 

“Yes, that’s it. You understand it jest as it is, but I 
don’t seem to be able to find her. Don’t the folks here 
have any houses? It seems to me that pretty much every- 
thing is a store or a shop, as far as I can see.” 

“Don’t you know where she lives?” 

“ No ; only she lives somewhere in Philadelphy. I guess 
I can find her if you’ll tell me where the folks live here. 
I don’t seem to be able to find any such place.” 

“I wish I could help you, but I’m afraid I can’t. Are 
you sure she lives in the city?” 


THE END OF THE SEARCH 


181 


“She’s in the city now, an’ has been since the war be- 
gan. I don’t know whether she stays here all the time or 
not. Kich folks have such queer notions in their heads. 
They seem to want to be here an’ there an’ everywhere in 
the course o’ a year.” 

“ I’m afraid I can’t ” began the old gentleman again, 

and then suddenly stopped as some thought or suggestion 
seemed to occur to him. “ Did you say she was a widow ? ” 
he inquired with an appearance of eagerness. 

“No; I didn’t say so, but she is, all the same. She’s 
rich too.” 

“There’s a woman who has been staying for some months 
with my next door neighbor, and if I’m not mistaken her 
name is Gray.” 

“That’s the one. She’s the one I want,” said Samantha 
eagerly. 

“ I’m not so sure of that,” replied the old man smilingly ; 
“but if you care to accompany me. I’ll conduct you to the 
place. The family’s name is Fisher. You don’t happen 
to know whether she’s staying with any one of that name, 
do you ? ’ ’ 

“No; I don’t happen to know anjdhing about that. 
Why, is there anything wrong with ’em?” she asked, for 
the old man’s manner had changed as he had referred to 
the Fishers, and Samantha was quick to feel the implied 
suspicion in his tone. 

“ I cannot say as to that,” he replied guardedly ; “ but if 
you will come with me I’ll show you the house and you 
can soon do your errand.” 

Samantha at once joined her companion, but her thoughts 


182 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


were too busy to heed the direction in which they were 
going. She was dimly aware that they had turned many 
corners and must have walked a considerable distance, 
when at last her companion halted in front of a comfort- 
able-appearing dwelling-house and said: “This, my good 
woman, is Abel Fisher’s house, the one of which I spoke. 
Would you like to have me wait here until you have made 
inquiries ?” 

Samantha could see again that her companion held some 
feeling against Abel Fisher and that he did not wish to 
enter the house. Without giving much heed to the im- 
pression, however, she said quickly : “No. No. ITl go in 
alone. I’m sure I thank you. I’ll not trouble you more.” 

“ I live in the next house and if you have need of me do 
not hesitate to call upon me. I bid you good-evening, 
madam,” and with a courtly gesture he passed on to his 
own house. 

Samantha ran hurriedly up the steps and, ignoring the 
heavy knocker on the door, rapped sharply with her hand. 
She saw her recent companion standing on the steps of his 
own house and readily conjectured that he was purposely 
delaying his entrance until he should see what kind of a 
welcome she received. 

Apparently her summons had not been heeded or heard, 
and impatiently waiting for a response, Samantha for the 
first time perceived the heavy iron knocker. Seizing this 
she smote it a half-dozen times, until she herself could hear 
the sound of her strokes resounding in the hall. Nor was 
that all she heard, for in a brief time she could also hear 
some one hasteuing through the hallway, and the heavy 


THE END OF THE SEARCH 


183 


bolt on the door was pressed back, and then an angry serv- 
ing maid was standing before her. 

“What do you make such a din for?” demanded the 
maid sharply. “Who are you? What do you want?” 

Samantha’s courage had revived by this time and a 
flush of anger spread over her face at the sharp words of 
the servant. Apparently unconscious of the strange ap- 
pearance she presented, her eyes snapped as she said : 
“Who be you. I’d like to know? You’re a hussy, that’s 
what you are ! Any one with half an eye can see that.” 

The maid stared at the strange woman for a moment, and 
then with a quick movement tried to close the door in the 
face of her visitor. Quick as she was, Samantha was still 
quicker, and thrusting her foot inside the casing prevented 
the door from being closed. 

“ No ye don’t ! ” she exclaimed. “I’ve come here to see, 
and see I’m a goin’ to, for all the hussies in Philadelphy. 
You see if I don’t.” 

' “If you don’t leave at once,” said the angry maid, “I’ll 
call my master.” 

“I should think ’twas about time for ye to tend to yer 
business. It’s yer master I came to see, and see him I will. 
I sha’n’t leave till I do, either.” 

“ Well, I sha’n’t let you into the house till he comes,” re- 
torted the servant. “You take your foot away till I can 
shut the door, and I’ll call him. You’ll have to stay out- 
side till he comes.” 

“ No, I sha’n’t stay outside till he comes,” replied Sa- 
mantha Schenck sharply. “ I’m a goin’ to stay right here 
till you go an’ get him. I sha’n’t eat ye. Ye needn’t be 


184 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


afraid o’ that, for I know good victuals when I see ’em, an’ 
there’s a sight o’ difference, I can tell ye, between old, dried 
up things and those that are fresh.” 

The servant uttered an exclamation of anger and again 
strove to shut the door, but the sturdy figure of Israel 
Schenck’s wife was not lightly to be thrust aside, partic- 
ularly when she exerted her weight and strength together. 

There was no doubt as to how the unequal contest would 
have ended had not just then some one appeared in the 
hall, and Samantha could hear the voice of a woman as she 
said in surprise : “ Why, Hannah, what in the world are 
you doing? ” 

“There’s a beggar woman, or a crazy one, I don’t know 
which, trying to get into the house, and I’m trying to keep 
her out,” replied the breathless servant. 

“I ain’t no beggar woman and I ain’t crazy, either,” 
some one outside the door exclaimed. “ I just want to get 

my hands on that hussy ” but the further words were 

not spoken, for either the servant’s strength had given 
way, or the irate Samantha had just then exerted all her 
reserve power. At all events the pressure against the door 
from within was- suddenly removed and the buxom form 
of Samantha Schenck went sprawling upon the floor of the 
hall. 

A scream greeted her startling entrance ; but quickly ris- 
ing upon her feet Samantha turned and glared upon the 
two frightened women before her. 

“I vow,” panted Samantha, “if that’s the way folks 
ill Philadelphy treat their visitors, then all I can say is, I 
hoi3e I’ll never set foot in the pesky old town again.” 


THE END OF THE SEARCH 


185 


She suddenly paused in her tirade as she obtained a 
glimpse of the woman who was standing beside the trem- 
bling and angry servant. She was a sad-faced woman in 
middle life, and the marks of suffering were evident in 
every feature. Plainly she was a lady too, and for a mo- 
ment even Samantha was abashed as she stared at the 
sweet and gentle face before her. 

Recovering in a moment from her surprise, Samantha’s 
entire bearing instantly changed. She was no longer an- 
gry, and as she gazed at the gentle woman before her she 
stammered; “I beg your pardon, madam, but you areas 
like him as one pea is like another.” 

The woman smiled, but it was evident that she regarded 
her visitor with ill-disguised alarm. Nevertheless she said 
gently : “Was there sojne one here whom you wished to 
see?” 

“ Yes,” said Samantha sharply ; “ Pm thinkin’ I wanted 
to see you yourself.” 

“ Well, you haven’t very far to look then, for here I am,” 
said the woman kindly. 

“ So I see, and you’re Alexander’s ma. Pd know it in a 
minute if I was to meet you in — Philadelphy,” she added 
as if no other word occurred to her. 

The effect of her words was as remarkable as that which 
had greeted her startling entrance a few moments before. 
The woman started forward, her face became deadly pale, 
and clasping her hands, she said eagerly : “Do you know 
anything about my Alexander? My poor boy ! my poor 
boy ! Do you know what became of him? Tell me ! Tell 
me ! ” 


186 


A PIUSONER IN BUFF 


“ They came and took him from my house and shut him 
up in Van Cortlandt’s sugar house, that’s what they did 
with him.” 

“ Oh, thank God ! Thank God ! ” exclaimed the woman, 
the tears coursing down her cheeks and her voice becom- 
ing choked with sobs as she spoke. 

“I don’t see nothin’ to be so very thankful for about 
that,” said Samantha drily, though her own eyes were 
filled with tears and her chin was strangely quivering. 

“Oh, but they said he was dead. They said he was 
among the missing after the battle. Every one told me he 
must have been shot. And now you say he is alive and in 
the prison house in New York. Oh, my good woman, do 
you know it to be true? Are you not mistaken? It’s too 
good to be true ! Tell me ! Tell me ! ” 

“I guess I know what I’m talkin’ about,” replied Sa- 
mantha with an attempt to speak sharply which failed ab- 
jectly, for the tears were now streaming from her eyes and 
her voice was strangely broken. “ I guess I ought to know, 
seein’ as how they took him from my own house, and one 
o’ Israel’s men has been right into the old sugar house and 
seen the poor boy with his own eyes. I should think I 
ought to know a little somethin’ about it.” 

“ Of course you do. Of course you do. And he is really 
there now, is he? ” 

“ He was when I left home,” said Samantha evasively ; 
for somehow in the sight of the mother’s mingled joy and 
sorrow, it was becoming more difficult for her to declare 
the latter part of her message, which after all was the true 
purpose of her coming. 


THE END OF THE SEARCH 


187 


“ Come right in here and sit down and tell me all about 
it,” said Mrs. Gray, leading the way into the parlor as she 
spoke. “I must apologize for Hannah’s mistake. She 
didn’t know anything about it, you see. You must forgive 
her. I know you will. And you have really seen my poor 
boy, my Alexander, have you?” 

“Yes, I’ve seen him,” replied Samantha quietly, glaring 
for a moment as she spoke at Hannah, who remained 
standing in the hall and evidently, from her manner, still 
unconvinced of the propriety of permitting the strange 
visitor to have a seat in the parlor. 

IMistress Gray had already opened the door into the 
room, and ignoring Hannah’s sniff of scorn, Samantha fol- 
lowed, though it was with a strange feeling of lack of ease 
which was not due entirely to her unaccustomed surround- 
ings. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE MESSAGE 

I T was evident to the more uncouth Samantha that Alex- 
ander’s mother was a lady, and her gentle manners 
and manifest air of refinement and good breeding 
caused the skipper’s wife to be sadly conscious of her own 
defects. Her momentary embarrassment, however, speed- 
ily gave way before the gracious manner of her hostess, 
and soon the two women were conversing as if they had 
long been familiar friends. 

“ And you say he was in your house after the battle, and 
that you nursed him back' to health ? ” said Mistress Gray. 
“And he was wounded in the fight too? Was he badly 
hurt ? Where was he shot ? ’ ’ 

“ He wasn’t shot at all. Some one had clubbed him with 
his gun, and he had a bad bruise on the head.” 

Mrs. Gray shuddered as she said: “Oh, my poor boy! 

y 

What a terrible thing war is 1 Was he severely injured? 
Tell me all about it.” 

Thus bidden, Samantha Schenck related all the story, as 
she knew it, from the time when David had first appeared 
at her house to the time when Alexander had been seized 
by the Tories and carried to Van Cortlandt’s sugar house, in 
New York. Mrs. Gray sat leaning forward from her chair 
and listening with breathless interest to all that the woman 
before her was telling. The tears stood in her eyes and the 
188 


THE MESSAGE 


189 


expression of her face was softened by the emotion she 
could not conceal. Samantha too felt the influence of the 
mother’s grief and interest, and there were moments when 
her own utterance was broken and she paused to wipe her 
eyes vigorously. 

As she went on with the story she became more and 
more troubled as to how she was to relate her bad news. 
jMrs. Gray was so plainly overjoyed by the good news that 
Alexander was still alive, that Samantha dreaded to tell of 
the death of David and the serious illness which had seized 
her son. As she looked at the face of the mother shining 
even through her tears, she kept putting off the evil moment, 
hoping all the time that Alexander’s mother would in some 
way suspect the truth, or open a way which should lead to 
the informg,tion which she hesitated to give. 

“I know the prison house is a fearful place, by all re- 
ports,” said Mrs. Gray, when the first part of Samantha’s 
story had been told ; “ but you cannot know what a com- 
fort it is to hear that my boy is still alive. I had given 
him up ; and now it seems almost like a resurrection from 
the dead. ‘This my son that was dead is alive again.’ 
And you say my brother went back and joined the army*in 
New York?” 

“ Yes, he went back,” said Samantha evasively. 

“He knew you would take good care of my boy, and I 
know you did,” said Mrs. Gray eagerly. “But how does it 
happen that you are here in Philadelphia to tell me about 
it?” she suddenly added. 

“Nothin’ very strange about that, seein’ as Israel and I 
came on purpose.” 


190 


A l>KISONER IN BUFP' 


“Just to tell me?” 

Samantha nodded her head, and then at Mrs. Gray’s 
urging, briefly related the story of the voyage from Long 
Island. 

]\Irs. Gray listened attentively, and when Samantha 
stopped, said : “ What can I ever do to reward you for your 
goodness to me and mine? I am sure something can be 
done, and it shall too. Perhaps now you would be willing 
for me to — to give you ” 

What she had in mind to give she did not mention, for 
Samantha suddenly sat erect in her chair, and her eyes 
flashed as she said, “I didn’t come here for no such thing 
as that, and if you say another word about it I’ll leave the 
house this minute.” 

“I crave your pardon,” said Mrs. Gray gently. “I did 

not know, I did not understand. I thought, perhaps 

Well, at least you’ll let me get some refreshment for you. 
Perhaps you’ll drink a cup of tea. I do not use it myself,” 
she explained quickly ; “but the people of the house here 
are not troubled by my scruples, and perhaps you would 
be willing to accept a cup after your long voyage. You 
must be sadly exhausted.” 

Mrs. Gray had risen as she spoke, as if she would at once 
carry out her suggestion, but Samantha Schenck was also 
standing erect now, and with flashing eyes she turned upon 
her hostess, and said : “Tea? Tea? Let me tell you I didn’t 
come to this town to be insulted! Tea? Tea? I didn’t 
think that o’ you, I didn’t indeed I I couldn’t ’a’ believed 
that Alexander’s ma would have offered me tea, and he 
a soldier too I That’s most too much, that is 1 ” 


THE MESSAGE 


191 


“Again I must beg your pardon,” said Mrs. Gray, aghast 
at the apparent anger of her visitor. “I might have known 
that your scruples were as strong as my own. And after all 
you have done for me too ! You must forgive me, for the 
good news you have brought has sadly turned my head, I 
fear.” 

“Don’t be so sure it’s all good news,” said Samantha 
brusquely ; “ ye haven’t the whole of the story yet.” 

Samantha was striving to maintain an appearance of 
anger that she might be able to relate all she had to tell. 
She was fearful of its effect upon the delicate, refined woman 
before her, and thought the task might be more easily ac- 
complished if she could still maintain the tone of voice with 
which she was accustomed to address her worthy husband. 
Israel, however, understood the kind and gentle heart be- 
hind all the apparently harsh words ; but with Mrs. Gray 
the case was far different, and even Samantha herself was 
fearful. The information must be given, though, and the 
first purpose of her coming must not be forgotten ; and 
bracing herself by a strong effort of her will, she decided to 
“say her say, and have done with it,” as she afterward ex- 
plained it to Israel when she related to her husband the 
story of her interview with “Alexander’s ma.” 

“You have something else to tell me?” said Mrs. Gray, 
her voice faltering and her face becoming deadly pale as 
she spoke. “Please tell me, and do not keep me in this 
suspense,” she added gently. 

“Yes, there is more to tell. That brother o’ yours ” 

“David? Do you mean David? Has anything hap- 
pened to him ? ” 


192 


A PKISONEK IN BUFF 


“Well, I told ye how he left us, and how Israel — he’s my 
husband — took him across the sound so that he could go 
back to the soldiers. He went back all right and joined 
the men and was there in that fight at Fort Washington, 
but he was hurt in the battle and was taken prisoner. They 
took him into the same sugar house where Alexander was, 
though neither one o’ ’em knew the other was there ; and I 
guess they don’t take very good care o’ the men, or feed 
’em as they ought to be fed. At any rate, your brother 
David ” 

Samantha stopped as she saw a strange expression come 
over her hearer’s face ; but Mrs. Gray did not do what was 
expected of her, and only said in a low voice : 

“ And is David dead? ” 

Samantha nodded her head in reply, not daring to trust 
her voice. 

Both women were still standing, and if Samantha had 
looked for Mrs. Gray to faint or fall, she was mistaken, for 
she did neither. Her eyes were dry now, and leaning for- 
ward and peering intently into the face of the skipper’s 
wife, she said in a low voice: “And Alexander? Is he 
dead too? ” 

“No; that is, he wasn’t when I came away. Leastwise, 
that’s what Israel reported to me after he’d sent one o’ his 
men into the city. Ye see, they go in with provisions to 
sell and come out with — well, never mind what they come 
out with.” 

“But you haven’t told me all about my boy, I can see 
plainly. Will you not tell me what you have to say? I 
am stronger than you think, and can bear anything better 


THE MESSAGE 


193 


than this suspense. Tell me,” she added pleadingly, her 
voice breaking for the moment in the intensity of her grief. 

“ Yes, ITl tell ye everything I know. The plain fact o’ 
the case is that Alexander’s got the fever, the prison fever, 
ye see. He isn’t dead, or leastwise he wasn’t when I left 
home ; but I thought ye would like to know about it, so I 
came and told ye. It isn’t very good news, but I thought 
if it had been my Benjy ” and Samantha’s voice sud- 

denly broke, “I’d like to know about it, and I made up 
my mind to do as I’d like to be done by.” 

To Samantha’s intense surprise Mrs. Gray’s manner sud- 
denly changed. Instead of giving way to her grief, or the 
coming of the flood of tears which she expected would greet 
her announcement, Alexander’s mother did not shed a tear. 
Indeed, she appeared to be the stronger of the two at that 
moment. There was a tightening of the lips and her eyes 
were dry, as she said : 

“ I can never thank you enough for all your goodness to 
me. It was a relief to know that my boy had not fallen in 
battle ; and now that you have told me of his sickness, I 
know what I shall have to do.” 

“What’s that?” 

“ I shall go to him.” 

“They may not let you see him. I thought o’ all that 
afore I told ye.” 

“I shall try.” 

“Tliat’s jist what I expected, and that’s one reason why 
I had Israel come with his sloop. Now, if ye want to, ye 
can go straight back with us.” 

“ When are you going to start? ” 

N 


194 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


“Any time ye want to. In half an hour, if you’d like.” 

Mrs. Gray hesitated a moment, and then quickly said : 
“It’s kind of you, my dear woman, but there are other 
reasons which compel me to decline your kind offer. I 
should like to accept it, but it will be impossible for me to 
do so.” 

“Jest as ye say, not as I care about it.” 

It was evident, however, from Samantha’s manner that 
she felt hurt at the refusal, and Mrs. Gray quickly urged 
her guest to be seated once more. Then for an hour the 
two women conversed eagerly together, and when Saman- 
tha at last arose to depart, as she glanced out of the window 
she saw that the night had already come. She said noth- 
ing, however, of the fear which the discovery brought her, 
and as she passed out into the hall she turned to Mrs. Gray 
and said : 

“Now, you’ll remember, won’t ye, what I’ve said? 
You’ll come straight to our house if you’re in need o’ us, 
and we’ll do everything we can for you.” 

“I’ll not forget,” replied Mrs. Gray, as she threw her arms 
about Samantha’s neck and kissed her tenderly. “You’ve 
been more kind than I can ever know, and I’ll not fail to 
look you up. And you say you’ll start in the morning? 

“Yes.” 

“Well, good-night and good-bye,” and Mrs. Gray kissed 
the sturdy woman again. “ Where did you say your boat 
was now?” she added. 

“I didn’t say, for I don’t know. It seems funny to 
say it, but I haven’t the remotest idea where the dock is. 
I don’t know what Israel will say.” 


THE MESSAGE 


195 


“ I’ll help you to find it,” said Mrs. Gray eagerly. “Abel 
will go with you, and I’m sure it won’t take long. There 
aren’t so many of them as to make much confusion.” 

“Abel? Abel who?” 

“Abel Fisher. He’s the man who lives here.” 

“ And drinks tea?” 

“ Yes ; he drinks tea, I am sorry to say, that is, when he 
can get any to drink.” 

“I won’t have no such man a showin’ me about this 
town ! I’ll go alone.” 

Nor would Samantha listen to the pleadings of Mistress 
Gray, but at once went out ni)on the street and started reso- 
lutely in the direction in which she supposed the river was. 

In less than an hour afterward a messenger mounted 
upon a fleet horse sped ont of the city on an errand for 
IMrs. Gray, while that good woman herself at the same 
time might have been seen walking rapidly down the street 
in which Abel Fisher’s house was situated. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


AN INTERVIEW WITH JOHN HANCOCK AND WHAT CAME OF IT 

S AMANTHA SCHENCK’S matronly form protected her 
from any annoyance, and after inquiring her way 
several times she succeeded in retracing her steps, and 
soon rejoined her husband and his companions on board 
the sloop. There her story was soon told, and it was de- 
cided that early on the following morning they would set 
sail for home. 

Before that hour came Mrs. Gray herself, with a driver 
and a carriage well filled with provisions, appeared on the 
dock, and in spite of Samantha’s remonstrances, Israel ac- 
cepted the needed supplies, and stored them in his sloop. 

“I thought I should find you,” said Mrs. Gray kindly, 
“and I am sure it is not the last time I shall see you. I 
am coming to New York myself.” 

“I thought ye would,” replied Samantha. “Now you’ll 
remember what I said, that, if you can, you’ll make use of 
our house and of us.” 

“I’ll not forget. I went to see John Hancock last night 
to ask him for a letter, but he was not at home. I have an 
appointment with liim this morning, and liope to start 
soon. I may be in New York almost as soon as you are.” 

The “Samantha” was soon ready to sail, and as long as 
the sloop could be seen Mrs. Gray remained upon the dock 
waving her kerchief, and when at last it disappeared she 
196 


AN INTERVIEW WITH JOHN HANCOCK 197 

turned eagerly to go to John Hancock’s home — “King” 
Hancock, his rivals and enemies in Congress called him — for 
the appointed interview. 

And at that very time there was a young prisoner in Van 
Cortlandt’s sugar house in New York, wlm was moaning 
and tossing on the hard floor, unaware of what was going 
on about him, and vainly calling for water and for his 
mother. 

It was about an hour afterward when a sad interview was 
being brought to its close in John Hancock’s house. The 
“ king” had listened quietly to what Mrs. Gray had to say, 
but had steadily refused to grant her request. The expres- 
sion upon his face had become almost hard, and he was 
using the method by which he was accustomed to conceal 
all the impulses of his heart which seemed to rise against 
his better judgment. 

The situation was not a pleasing one, and John Hancock 
had risen as if to give a hint that he desired the fruitless 
interview to end. Mrs. Gray had also risen now, and in a 
low voice of passionate entreaty, and with difficulty chok- 
ing back the sobs that shook her trembling form, she said : 

“INIr. Hancock, I cann-ot believe you have spoken truly. 
You have refused me the letter for a different reason.” 

“And what is that?” 

“ You are afraid of any possible mercy Sir William might 
show. You are lost to every feeling of mercy or pity in 
your determination to cling to the Declaration. You are 
afraid that Sir William might listen to the appeal of a 
heartbroken mother for her suffering boy, and that his 
mercy might influence some of the people who are hesitat- 


198 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


ing about casting in their lot with the Colonies. Oh, Mr. 
Hancock,” she began again, the intensity of her sorrow 
apparently overcoming all her other feelings, “have you no 
love for the memory of your mother? Can you not recall 
her gentleness and all her care for you? Is a mother’s plea 
for her dying boy to be cast aside for fear that some of the 
wavering colonists may be influenced, and regard the British 
commander as not so inhuman as you would have them be- 
lieve him to be?” 

John Hancock, apparently unmoved by the pleadings of 
the desperate mother, still shook his head and made no 
other reply. Perceiving that her words were not likely to 
avail, a fresh burst of sorrow swept over the mother, whose 
eyes were now streaming with tears. Clasping her hands, 
and casting aside all reserve, she advanced a step nearer the 
president, and in an agony of grief broke forth into a fresh 
entreaty. 

“Forgive me, Mr. Hancock, if I have spoken too boldly ; 
but I cannot, I cannot go away without one more word ! 
Think of my poor boy, my Alexander. He is not yet 
twenty j’ears of age, and yet for weeks, perliaps months, 
he has been shut up in that dreadful prison in New York. 
You know he was a soldier with Washington, and I am told 
that in that terrible battle on Long Island he bravely did 
his part till the redcoats surrounded and captured him. 
And now he is confined in that foul sugar house. Think of 
the dead carried out every day and buried in loads from the 
ox-carts. Think of the starvation, the suffering, the groans 
of the dying on every side of my poor boy. Think of the 
stifling air, the hopelessness, and above all think of the 


AN INTERVIEW WITH JOHN HANCOCK 199 


brutal Cunningham. No place in which to sleep, little food, 
no help, no hope. And now my boy is stricken with the 
fever, and may die without one word from the mother who 
bore him. And all for what? Just because he was brave 
enough to hear and heed his country’s call. Are these half- 
hearted, cowardly men, whom you are trying to gain, to 
receive more consideration than a soldier or a soldier’s 
mother ? Oh, Mr. Hancock, it cannot be ! It cannot be ! 
And all 1 want of you is just a little letter to Sir William 
Howe commending me and my efforts to save my poor boy. 
And that is all I ask. I will plead my own cause. You 
need not add one word. Surely you will not, you cannot, 
refuse my request when it comes as it does from a mother 
who has given her only boy to her country. Oh, give me 
the privilege of begging Sir William to permit me to remove 
him from the sugar house, or to close his dying eyes with 
my own hands. 

The poor mother ceased, and for a moment only the sound 
of her sobs could be heard in the room. John Hancock 
had not moved from his position near the door, but the 
sadly troubled woman, whose face was buried in her hands, 
did not look up to see that his eyes were filled with tears. 

“ Madam, it grieves me to say it, but I cannot grant your 
request.” 

Mrs. Gray’s tears were dried in a moment, and her eyes 
flashed as she replied: “Mr. President, then it shall be 
done without your aid. Sir William Howe’s heart cannot 
be so hard as yours. If I cannot have your help in obtain- 
ing an interview', God will help me to find one without it.” 

Without another w^ord the w^oman departed, going down 


200 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


the steps of the house and up the Street, not once glancing 
behind her. If she had turned she might have seen the 
sadly perplexed president of the American Congress stand- 
ing in the doorway and watching his departing visitor until 
she disappeared from his sight. 

Then he turned, and as he re-entered the house he said 
to himself : “ It is hard. The poor woman was right, how- 
ever. I dare not give her a letter to Sir William for the 
very reason she mentioned. Howe without doubt would 
grant her request, and then the praises of his mercy and 
his yielding to the expressed wishes of the president of the 
American Congress would, just now, have an effect upon 
some of our wavering people which I dare not trust. The 
cause is greater than any man.” 

Even John Hancock’s enemies, and they were many, had 
they seen his face at the time would have acknowledged 
that the lines in it were less rigid as he closed the door be- 
hind him, and could they have looked within his heart 
they might have perceived an unexpressed desire that he 
himself might have taken the place of that “only son of his 
mother and she a widow,” who was lying, suffering from 
the wasting fever, in the foul prison in New York. But the 
wish was not expressed, and perhaps only the gentle wife, 
Dorothy, ever knew of the softer side of the heart of the 
stern, unyielding patriot, who never had complained of his 
own severe losses in the struggle, and who perhaps failed to 
understand that others could not be so patient and deter- 
mined as himself. 

Meanwhile his recent visitor walked rapidly along the 
street and did not stop until she mounted the steps of a 


AN INTERVIEW WITH JOHN HANCOCK 201 


house which stood apart from all others, and had lifted the 
heavy brass knocker upon the door. 

In response to her summons, the door was opened by a 
woman apparently of her own age, who as she peered into 
the face of Mrs. Gray, said: “You did not succeed. The 
‘king’ would not do it. It is as I told you, and John 
Hancock cares for no one but himself. Come in and tell 
me all about it.” 

Mrs. Gray entered at the bidding, and as she sank into a 
chair said: “No, Mr. Hancock would not give me the 
letter. How did you know it? ” 

“ I read it in your face. I knew you could expect no 
mercy from him. Think of living in a country where the 
rulers are such as he. His only thought is of himself ! ” 

“ Nay, I blame not John Hancock. I am angry and bit- 
terly disappointed, but I doubt not he does what he con- 
siders right. My thoughts now are not of him, but of what 
I must do for my poor Alexander.” 

“ And what will you do, now that you have no letter?” 

“ I shall go to New York just the same as if the president 
had written one. I have a horse and chair here in Phila- 
delphia, and if I can find a man brave enough to attempt 
the journey with me, I shall start at once.” 

“But what can you do when you arrive in New York, 
that is, if you are fortunate enough ever to get there? You 
know the Hessians are many in New Jersey, and you may 
be interrupted on your journey.” 

“ I shall go. I should go if Jersey were filled with the 
‘Dutch butchers.’ I cannot believe the widow and the 
fatherless will be forsaken. It seems to me every minute 


202 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


as if I could hear tlie calls of my poor lad. I must find 
some one to go with me,” and as she spoke Mrs. Gray rose 
from her seat as if she would begin the search immediately. 

“ I think Abel would go with you, Mary,” said her friend 
hesitatingly. “ I did not believe you would give up the at- 
tempt, any more than I did that John Hancock would give 
you a letter, and as I spoke to my husband this morning 
after you started for the ‘king’s’ house, he said he would 
be pleased to go with you, if you so desired it.” 

For a moment Mrs. Gray hesitated. She well knew that 
Abel Fisher, the husband of her long-time friend, was re- 
garded with suspicion by many of the patriots, and she her- 
self had distrusted him from the time when she had first 
met him. Even then she recalled the many “ loans” she 
had made him, loans which he had never repaid and which 
she had consented to make solely for the sake of his wife, 
her friend from their school days. 

But the time was pressing now, and even to take such as- 
sistance as Abel Fisher could render, might be better than 
to delay, and she was about to accept the offer when the 
man himself entered the room. In a brief time his wife 
had explained the wishes of her friend, and then both 
turned to Mrs. Gray to receive her reply. 

As she still appeared to hesitate, Abel Fisher said: “It 
will give me great pleasure to accompany you on this jour- 
ney. You may discover that the men who are not so noisy 
in their protestations as others may be, are none the less 
your friends. The loss of time will be severe to me, for I 
have some weighty matters to attend to, but I shall be 
more than repaid for that loss by the consciousness of hav- 


AN INTERVIEW WITH JOHN HANCOCK 203 


ing been of service to you in such a worthy task as that 
before us.” 

The man was expecting to be handsomely rewarded for 
his aid. Mrs. Gray could see that plainly, for she knew 
him so well that his pompous manner could not deceive 
her. But the necessity for haste was great, and so over- 
coming her feeling of repugnance and distrust, the troubled 
woman said : “ Very well, I accept your offer. And when 
can we start?” 

‘‘That shall be determined by your pwn pleasure. I am 
only your most humble servant, and am ready to do your 
bidding, whatever that may be,” and Abel bowed low as he 
spoke. 

“Then have my horse and chair ready in an hour.” 

Again the obsequious Abel bowed low, and at once de- 
parted from the room, and his wife began to assist her 
friend in providing the few articles which were necessary 
for the journey. 

More than once the heart of Mrs. Gray misgave her and 
she was on the point of declaring that she could not set 
forth on such a journey in the company of a man she dis- 
trusted and whose promises she feared. The presence of 
her friend, however, restrained her, and again it seemed to 
her she. could hear the calls from the sugar house in New 
York, and in her eagerness to attempt the release of her 
boy she resolutely put aside her fears and busied herself in 
the preparations for what was then thought to be a long and 
difficult journey. 

She was aware that her friend had spoken truly concern- 
ing the danger likely to arise from the presence of the Hes- 


204 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


siaiis in New Jersey. There was also the greater danger to 
be feared if she should succeed in entering New York, when 
it was learned that she was the patriot mother of one of the 
patriot prisoners. But the unspoken pleadings of her suf- 
fering boy sounded louder in her ears than any or all of 
these perils. 

Few words were spoken by the women as they made the 
preparations for the journey, and so eager were they that 
long before the time for the appearance of her chair, they 
had completed their task and seated themselves by the win- 
dow to wait for the coming of Abel. 

“Have you any definite plan? Do you know what you 
will do ? ” inquired her friend. 

“No. I must leave all that to Providence. I know I 
shall be cared for, and the widow and fatherless will not be 
forsaken in such an hour.” 

Perhaps the faith of her friend was not so strong as that 
of Mrs. Gray’s. At all events she made no reply, and the 
silence was unbroken until Abel was discovered approach- 
ing with the horse and chair. 

All of Mrs. Gray’s eagerness to set forth instantly re- 
turned at the sight, and soon, all unmindful of the smooth 
words of her driver, she took her seat in the chair and re- 
alized that what was destined to be an eventful journey was 
at last begun. 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE PURSUIT 

T he heart of Mistress Gray, filled with pity for the suf- 
fering prisoner in Van Cortlandt’s sugar house, had 
none to spare for the poor beast which was drawing 
her chair. Abel responded to her appeals for haste, and so 
rapidly had they proceeded, in spite of the eager mother’s 
feeling that the wheels were held back by invisible weights, 
that it was not long after nightfall when they entered the 
quaint old town of Burlington. 

The night was passed with friends, who like herself were 
compelled to be independent of masculine aid, for many of 
the good men of Burlington had gone forth to join the 
bands that were striving to protect their homes from the 
attacks of the enemy. Weary as Mrs. Gray was when she 
entered the house, the rest of the night refreshed her, and 
when she was summoned in the early morning, long before 
the sun had appeared, hope had returned and she was eager 
to renew the journey. 

The good old Scotch grandmother knelt with the family 
when the breakfast was over, and as Mrs. Gray listened to 
her petition, voiced as it was in the quaint dialect of the 
people from across the sea, her faith returned. Surely the 
seed of the righteous, and the fatherless and the widow 
would not be forgotten. 

As Abel soon appeared with the chair, the good-byes were 

205 


206 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


spoken, the eager woman took her seat, and the perilous 
journey was resumed. The June air, fragrant and warm, 
the wild roses by the roadside, the songs of the birds with 
which the woods seemed to be filled, all combined to make 
the scene one of peace and quiet, that is, all save the face 
of the woman in the chair, whose anxiety apparently in- 
creased with every passing mile. Had it not been for the 
prayer and the strong faith of Grandmother INIcLean, whose 
petition she had heard that morning, perhaps the danger- 
ous undertaking might even then have been abandoned. 

Mingled with the mother’s thoughts of the suffering 
prisoner now, were fears of the Hessians who were sta- 
tioned in Brunswick, and who were reported as daily 
marching forth from their quarters and in small detach- 
ments to be lying in wait along the country roads for scat- 
tered bands of patriots, or for farmers who dared to attempt 
to carry provisions to the Continentals, encamped in the 
lower part of the State, or across the lines in Pennsylvania. 

As Mrs. Gray’s anxiety increased, that of her companion 
for some strange reason seemed to disappear, and when by 
the middle of the afternoon they began to draw near to 
Princeton he was even light-hearted and gay. 

“ We’ll soon be out of this region,” he said, at last break- 
ing in upon the long silence. “The Hessians are all in 
Brunswick, and I have that in my pocket which will re- 
lieve you of all fear of them.” 

Mrs. Gray looked up quickly at the words and her sus- 
picions of her companion returned. What did he mean? 
How was it that he could safely pass the Hessian lines? 
However, she did not express her fears, and gently said : 


THE PURSUIT 


207 


“The militia are in Elizabethtown, and if we can only 
pass the ‘ Dutch butchers ’ safely, I am confident we shall 
succeed. The patriots are strong and active, and once 
among them I shall feel tliat much of the danger is past.” 

“You don’t seem to have had much success in obtaining 
help from them thus far. You don’t believe me, I know, 
but your friends are your worst enemies. I’ll prove to you 
before we get to New York that those whom you are pleased 
to call your foes will do more for you than such friendly 
patriots as John Hancock. 

For a moment Mrs. Gray did not speak, but she was 
thoroughly alarmed by Abel’s words. \Yas he planning to 
take her into the enemy’s lines? Did he know of condi- 
tions before them of which she was ignorant? She was 
thoroughly familiar with the route from Philadelphia to 
New York, and was confident they had not departed from 
it ; but Abel’s words, and above all the meaning smile upon 
his face, did not promise well. 

“Why didn’t you try to get Washington to give you a 
letter?” said Abel, perceiving that no reply was made. 

“ I did try,” said Mrs. Gray quietly. “ I expect a letter 
from him on my way.” 

“ He and ‘ King’ Hancock are two of a kind, I take it,” 
said Abel exultingly. “He won’t do any more for you 
than the president, now, will he?” 

“ He may not want to give me a letter, and for the same 
reason that Mr. Hancock refused. They both are afraid of 
the effect upon some of the men who are hesitating now, 
and who, having no principles of their own, are only wait- 
ing to join the winning side.” 


208 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


“No doubt which that will be. For my part I haven’t 
very much sympathy with the men who are trying to paint 
Sir William Howe as a monster. The truth is, ‘King’ 
Hancock knows he would let you take your boy. Of course 
he would. But what would become of all the dreadful 
stories then, of the cruelty and savage deeds of the red- 
coats? That’s John Hancock’s chief stock in trade.” 

That there was an element of truth in what her compan- 
ion said, Mrs. Gray well knew, and at first there was a 
bitter response in her own heart. Soon, however, the 
words of John Hancock came back to her : “The cause is 
greater than any man.” And he believed it too ! Did not 
his own face betray his feelings? Had he not suffered 
almost, if not entirely, the loss of all things? But he had 
no children to lose in the terrible struggle. For him there 
was no young Alexander wasting and suffering in the loath- 
some prison houses of New York. She could respect the 
president of the American Congress for his principles ; but 
her mother heart cried out for her boy. 

“Never you fear. I’m getting into the country now 
where I shall not be afraid of interruptions. I’ll get you to 
Paulus Hook pretty soon, and I don’t mind the loss of my 
time.” 

Abel Fisher laughed lightly as he spoke, for the thought 
of the reward he was likely to receive for his efforts was 
uppermost in his mind. Mingled with that, however, was 
the knowledge that Mrs. Gray would certainly have less 
occasion in the future to be so pronounced in her confidence 
in the patriot leaders and their cause. It was a shame 
that, with all her wealth, she could not perceive that in the 


THE PURSUIT 


209 


end, with the certain failure of the rebellion, it would all 
be confiscated. Perhaps Abel Fisher was thinking of vari- 
ous plans by which she might be saved from that misfor- 
tune, and indirectly lie himself not be the loser thereby ; 
but if such possibilities were in his thoughts he was far too 
shrewd to give them utterance, and as he perceived that 
conversation was apparently distasteful to his companion, 
he discreetly held his peace. 

And Mrs. Gray decidedly preferred silence to the talk of 
her driver. Among the trees in the distance she had just 
now obtained a glimpse of the buildings of old Nassau 
Hall. The sight only served to increase her anxiety, for it 
brought back to her mind the vision of the young Alex- 
ander when, two years before this time, he had been ex- 
pecting to enter the college, and had boyishly boasted of 
the success which should crown his efforts there. 

How proud the mother had been of him then, what 
plans she had formed for him and for her ! So many of the 
good and great men she had known had been to Nassau 
Flail, and her boy too was to be of the number, she fondly 
hoped. At least, the very best advantages a loving mother 
could bestow, should be his. 

All that had been changed by the outbreak of the war, 
and now instead of entering the village to visit her son as a 
student in the old college, she was to pass swiftly through 
it on her way to attempt his release from the loathsome 
prison-house in the great city. 

The recollection of the lad, all eager and animated as he 
had been then, and the contrast with his present sad con- 
dition, were almost more than she could bear. Her face 

o 


210 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


became pale, as the chair approached the village, though 
not from weariness, and the firm, strong chin was quiver- 
ing, and the blue eyes filled with tears. The words of 
Grandmother McLean’s tender prayer came back once 
more. The special promise for the widow and the father- 
less must surely apply now. 

She was suddenly roused from her revery by a startled 
exclamation of her driver. “ There’s a body of horsemen 
coming up the road behind us ! ” he exclaimed. “There are 
six of them,” he added a moment later, after another hasty 
glance behind him. “They’re coming straight this way ! 
What shall we do?” 

“Drive on ! Drive on ! ” replied the undaunted woman, 
instantly roused to the necessity of action by the words. 

Even the thoughts of the suffering Alexander were for the 
moment banished in the presence of the new danger which 
threatened. In a moment the pace of the horse had been 
quickened, and the mad race was begun. 

The startled horse broke into a swift run. The chair 
swayed from side to side, but Mrs. Gray clung to the seat, 
while the driver plied the lash and shook the reins over 
the back of the frightened steed. All of Abel Fisher’s re- 
cent confidence in his ability to pass safely through the 
region seemed to have suddenly and completely disap- 
peared. 

On swept the chair and its occupants, on past the old 
college buildings, on into the country road beyond. The 
horse was soon flinging the foam from his mouth, and his 
heaving sides were wet and dripping. Still, the frightened 
Abel leaned forward, and shouted and plied the whip in 


The PUKsUiT 


211 


his desperation, striving to increase the speed of the weary 
and already over-driven horse. 

“They’re coming ! They’re gaining upon us ! ” said Mrs. 
Gray, in an excited whisper after a quick glance behind 
her. “ Drive on, Abel ! Drive faster ! They must not catch 
us ! Oh, my poor boy ! My poor Alexander ! ” 

Her backward glance had shown her that the soldiers 
certainly were increasing the speed of their horses and 
steadily gaining upon the chair. AVhat chance would a 
poor, over-driven horse, which had known but little rest 
since the morning of the preceding day, have in such a 
race as that? Already he was beginning to' show signs of 
distress, and it was evident that the swift pace at which he 
was then going could not long be maintained. 

Abel Fisher apparently did not need any warning from 
his companion to induce him to do his utmost. At her 
words he cast one quick look behind him, and the expres- 
sion of alarm upon his face increased. For a moment the 
frightened woman suspected that he was about to leap from 
the chair, and leaving her to her fate, seek his own safety 
in flight. Little realizing how much better it would have 
been for her, if the treacherous man had been left to follow 
the impulse in his heart, she turned to him and in the 
presence of the added fear which had now seized her, cried : 

“ Oh, do not leave me ! Drive on ! Drive on ! Twenty 
pounds shall be yours if we escape ! Drive on ! Drive on!” 

Whatever the impulse in Abel Fisher’s mind may have 
been, he evidently abandoned it, and gave his entire atten- 
tion to his driving. The horse was running now and with 
frantic leaps tried to respond to the blows and calls of his 


212 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


driver, but it was apparent that his strength was almost ex- 
hausted. His breathing was labored and difficult, and 
could be heard distinctly by the occupants of the chair. 
Still he struggled forward, and still the driver called to 
him and vainly strove to increase his speed. 

“The widow and the fatherless,” murmured Mrs. Gray, 
unconsciously speaking aloud the thought which had filled 
her mind when she had started, and which Grandmother 
McLean had intensified by her prayer. 

Abel glanced hastily at her as if he did not fully under- 
stand what she had said. 

“Drive on! Remember the twenty pounds!” was her 
reply to the unspoken question. 

The soldiers were no longer riding together, but although 
they were spread out in a long line, it was nevertheless 
evident to Mrs. Gray that they were steadily decreasing the 
distance between them and the chair. The pursuit would 
soon be ended now, she bitterly thought, but, still un- 
daunted, she was about to turn to her companion and again 
urge him to increase their speed when she suddenly checked 
herself and looked intently at the approaching men. 

They were not more than a hundred yards behind them 
now, and she could even distinguish their features. Their 
uniforms were covered with dust and buff coat or red would 
have presented much the same appearance. 

However, Mistress Gray evidently discovered something 
unusual in the appearance of her pursuers, for her excite- 
ment, keen as it then w^as, instantly increased, and with an 
eager gesture she turned to her frightened driver, who was 
still diligently striving to increase the speed of the horse. 



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Page 213. 


“ With another burst of speed he grasped the bridle.” 





CHAPTER XXVI 


TO THE HESSIAN LINES 

S TOP ! Stop the horse ! They’re Continentals ! We’re 
safe! We’re safe!” shouted Mrs. Gray, as if Abel 
Fisher was so far away that a great effort would be 
required to make him hear her words. 

Abel, however, instead of being reassured and checking 
the speed of his steed, rose to his feet and with a low ex- 
clamation of anger or surprise began to lash furiously the 
dripping horse before him. 

The frantic animal endeavored to respond. The chair 
gave a lurch which almost sent its occupants to the ground ; 
but the demands were more than the poor beast could heed. 
Already his pace was decreasing rapidly, when one of the 
soldiers suddenly put spurs to the horse he was riding, and 
dashing ahead of his companions drew nearer and nearer 
to the chair. 

Soon he was by its side, and then with another burst of 
speed, and leaning low upon the neck of his steed, he 
grasped the bridle of the horse which was drawing the 
chair and brought it to a sudden standstill. 

‘‘Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come!” exclaimed Mrs. Gray 
eagerly. “ We thought at first you were Hessians.” 

She might have added that the thought of the promise 
for the widow and the fatherless was also in her mind, but 
of that she did not speak at the time, and, indeed, its true 

213 


214 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


meaning was not to come to her until many sad experiences 
had almost shaken her faith and put it to the most severe 
of tests. 

The soldier looked at her a moment as she spoke as if he 
could not believe that he had heard aright, and then 
laughed aloud. “They thought we were Hessians,” he 
said to his companions, who by this time had joined him. 
“Yes, they did for a fact ; they thought we were Hessians ! 
That’s one of the best things I’ve ever heard.” 

The men all laughed at his words, and then the one who 
had spoken and who evidently was the leader of the little 
band, turned again to the chair and said to the driver : 
“You’re Abel Fisher, that’s who you are. We had word 
of you from Burlington this morning, and have been after 
you ever since. We know just how afraid you are of meet- 
ing Hessians ! You’ll go back with us and tell the colonel 
all about it ! Just explain to him too, while you are about 
it, how frightened you were when you thought the ‘ Dutch 
butchers’ were after you.” 

At a word from the leader, two of the men took the horse 
by the bits and began to turn the chair about in the road. 
As Mrs. Gray perceived what the men were doing a new 
fear seized upon the heart of the frightened woman, and 
she said : 

“But we can’t go back with you ! We can’t go back ! ” 

A loud laugh greeted her words, and as the leader gave 
the command for the return to be made, in an agony of 
grief and disappointment she again broke forth in her 
pleadings. 

“ We can’t go back ! We can’t go ! My boy is dying of 


TO THE HESSIAN LINES 


215 


the fever in the sugar house in New York and I must go to 
him ! I can’t go back ! I can’t go ! Please do not delay 
us ! We must hasten, or it will be too late.” 

“You did seem to be in a bit of a hurry,” and the leader 
laughed. “Then Abel Fisher’s boy is in the sugar house, 
is he? Well, it’s a good place for him, and his Tory father 
too, only as a rule they don’t shut Tories up there. Ha! 
ha! To the sugar house, was it? We may not be able to 
provide just such quarters as they have there, but will do 
the very best we can for ’em, won't we, men ?” he added, 
turning to his companions as he spoke. 

“That we will,” said his companions ; but a troubled ex- 
pression came over their faces as Mrs. Gray rose from her 
seat in the chair and with the tears streaming from her 
eyes began to plead with them. 

She told of the young Alexander and the part he had 
taken in the battle on Long Island, of his capture and the 
wasting fever in Van Cortlandt’s sugar house. She told of 
the efforts she had made to go to him, not even omitting 
her fruitless interviews with John Hancock. She appealed 
to their love for their mothers,* to their love for their own 
children, to all the motives she could think of to move 
them. 

“It isn’t Abel Fisher’s boy for whom I am pleading. 
Mr. Fisher has no boy. It’s my own poor lad, my Alex- 
ander, for whom I am pleading with you now. His very 
life may depend upon what you do now.” 

It was evident that the men were moved by the pleadings 
of the sorrow-stricken woman. They glanced awkwardly 
at one another, and finally the leader turned and said : 


216 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


“It may be all as you say, madam; indeed, I don’t 
doubt that it is,” he hastily added, as he perceived her 
overwhelming grief ; “but our orders are strict and you’ll 
have to go back with us. You can tell the colonel all about 
it, and I doubt not, if you’ve got a letter, or something to 
show that what you’ve been tellin’ us is gospel truth, he’ll 
be able to fix it somehow for ye. It won’t be very much 
of a delay, anyway. But we’ve orders to bring the Tory, 
Abel Fisher, and all his belongings, back to camp with 
us, and so you’ll have to come too.” 

Mrs. Gray continued her pleadings, but they were in vain. 
The men were as stern and unyielding in doing what they 
considered their duty as was John Hancock himself, and so 
in a brief time the little procession started, a mounted 
guard riding by each side of the chair. 

On past the college buildings, which the broken-hearted 
woman could hardly see through her blinding tears, on 
again along the country road, on through the few scattered 
hamlets and past the lonely farmhouses they moved, and 
soon after nightfall arrived at Bristol where a band of Con- 
tinentals lay encamped under the command of Colonel Mc- 
Ilvaine, and there they halted. 

At the urgent request of Mrs. Gray she was at once con- 
ducted to the commander’s tent. The dim light of the early 
evening covered all the encampment, but the eager mother 
had little thought for her surroundings. AVas the promise 
for the seed of the righteous to be meaningless? Were the 
widow and the fatherless to be forsaken after all? She was 
thinking of these things as she silently followed the soldier 
as he led the way to the colonel’s tent. 


TO THE HESSIAN LINES 


217 


“ Here we are,” he said cheerily, as they stopped before 
a tent in the door of which stood the colonel himself. As 
Mrs. Gray glanced up her heart gave a great throb as she 
recognized the officer as an old-time friend. It was strange 
she had not thought of it when his name had been first 
mentioned, but doubtless her other fears had prevented her 
from recalling the name. 

“Oh, Colonel Mcllvaine, you can aid me, I know you 
can.” 

“Mrs. Gray, as I live!” exclaimed the officer, as he 
looked for a moment in astonishment at the excited woman 
before him. “ What are you doing here? This is no place 
for you. I do not understand.” 

Only a brief time had passed, however, before he under- 
stood, for the eager woman poured forth all her story, and 
the grave, dignified man listened attentively until it was 
completed. 

For a moment he hesitated, and then said slowly : “ Then 
President Hancock refused to give you letters, did he?” 

“Yes, but you will not. Surely you will not refuse me 
my request when I am in such trouble as I am now. Let 
me tell you. I knew that Abel Fisher was a Tory, or at 
least I did not think he could be trusted.” 

“ Why did you go with him if you were suspicious?” 

“Because he is the husband of a dear friend. I was 
stopping with them, and I was in desperate haste and he 
offered to come with me. Besides, I had only suspicions, 
not positive knowledge. And I had no time to waste. Oh, 
Colonel Mcllvaine, you have a mother, and you know how 
she would feel and what she would do if she received word 


218 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


that you were in such trouble as my poor boy is. You have 
children too, of your own. Pity me ! Pity me ! I gave 
my boy to my country ! I gave him willingly, almost 
gladly ; but now that he can be of no further use to her, it 
does not seem right that her leaders should refuse me the 
privilege of caring for him, or at least of trying to be with 
him in what may be his dying hours.” 

The colonel was visibly moved by the piteous appeal, but 
after a brief silence he said : “Nothing can be done before 
morning, in any event. I will provide for your comfort 
to-night, and on the morrow we will see what can be done.” 

The weeping woman was led away to the tent which had 
been assigned to her, but no one will ever know how the 
long hours of that night passed. When in the early light 
of the following morning she was again conducted to the 
tent of Colonel Mcllvaine, her eyes were dry, but in her 
face the lines of anxiety and suffering were far deeper than 
they had been on the preceding day. 

The unspoken question was pathetic in its appeal, and as 
she entered the tent, the colonel rose, and after urging her 
to be seated, said : “ My dear Mistress Gray, I have thought 
of but little besides your sad case all through the night. 
Much as I should like to grant your request ” 

A low moan interrupted him, and as he glanced quickly 
at the woman before him, the colonel thought she was 
about to fall. Surely the keen disappointment did not 
promise well for the care of the widow and her fatherless 
boy. 

“I have thought of something else, however,” he hastily 
added, “ which may do more for you than could any poor 


TO THE HESSIAN LINES 


219 


letter of mine. I cannot do what my superior officers have 
already refused to do, and I fear a letter, such as you ask, 
would not be of much assistance, coming from me. How- 
ever, I think I can arrange to have you admitted within 
the Hessian lines, and then you can be sent forward on 
your journey. You will at least be safe, and certainly no 
worse off than you were before my men unfortunately 
stopped you and brought you back to our camp.” 

“Not a word, not a word,” he hastily added, as Mrs. 
Gray began to express her thanks in a voice choked with 
sobs. “You must have some breakfast and then start at 
once. My men are waiting for you now. I am sorry to 
say that your Tory driver and your horse and chair will 
have to be sent back to Philadelphia, however.” 

Too grateful to utter a protest, Mrs. Gray hastily ate the 
light breakfast the colonel already had provided for her 
and was soon ready for her departure. 

As Colonel Mcllvaine assisted her to mount the horse 
which was brought to her, she leaned low, and as she 
grasped his hand, said: “The God of the widow and the 
fatherless, who has not forsaken me, will not forget those 
who have cared for them in their affliction. That is pure 
religion and undefiled.” 

“I thank you, madam,” replied the colonel reverently. 
“I wish for you all success in your undertaking.” 

The five men who had been assigned to conduct her to 
the Hessian lines were all mounted now and ready to start. 
The leader gave the word and the little band at once de- 
parted from the camp. 

Mistress Gray hardly gave a thought to her companions. 


220 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


SO filled was she with the renewed hope which now had 
come to her. If she had regarded them, she would have 
marked that they were all evidently sturdy and determined 
men, and that they would do their utmost to aid and defend 
her. Patriotism with them was more than an impulse, and 
the liberty for which they were struggling led them to value 
a patriot’s mother, and as Colonel Mcllvaine had related to 
them briefly the sad story which Mistress Gray had told 
him, it was safe to conclude that her case could be in no 
better hands. 

For mile after mile they continued on their way, keeping 
well together and maintaining a careful lookout on the road 
in advance of them. The monotonous sound of the horses’ 
hoofs as they struck the road together to the eager woman 
seemed to repeat the one word, “Alexander.” The winds 
whispered it, the birds called it, and over and over again 
the refrain kept sounding in her ears until the mother’s 
anxiety knew no bounds. . 

It was near noon when the party at last halted at the 
word of the leader. 

“ We’re not far from Bound Brook now,” he said. “ The 
Hessians are said to be there.” 

“ Let us go forward at once, then,” said Mrs. Gray eagerly. 

“It will be better,” said the leader quietly, “for one of 
us to ride there alone and find out whether permission for 
you to enter their lines will be given. In case they refuse 
it, it will be better for one to be there than for five or six.” 

“But they will not refuse it, will they?” inquired the 
eager woman, her fears returning instantly. “ Colonel Mc- 
llvaine thought they would surely grant it.” 


TO THE HESSIAN LINES 


221 


“And so I think they will, but it will be better to take 
no chances. To make sure of it, I will go myself. If I am 
not back with you in an hour and a half, you will know 
there is trouble and will at once make your way back to 
camp. I hope to be able to report to you whatever the 
event may be, but you will keep a careful watch and be 
ready for any emergency.” 

The leader then quickly rode forward and soon disap- 
peared from the sight of his recent companions. As the 
moments jiassed, the fears of the troubled woman increased. 
She had been so eager and hopeful when they had set forth, 
and had had no thought of a possible failure of the colonel’s 
plan, that the caution of the leader came like a keen disap- 
pointment. 

Her companions were silent, but each seemed to share in 
her anxiety. Perhaps they too, knew something of her 
feelings from their own experiences, for few indeed were 
the soldiers who had not friends or relatives among the 
prisoners in New York. 

The sun climbed higher in the heavens, the slow mo- 
ments still dragged forward, but no sign of the returning 
leader could be discovered. An hour had gone and the 
limit of time which had been agreed upon had almost come. 
With the passing minutes the fears of tlie watchers, who 
seldom removed their gaze from the bend in the road in the 
distance where the man would first appear, redoubled. 
It almost seemed as if the widow was now to be for- 
gotten. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


A TORY WELCOME 

“ nnHERE he comes ! ” exclaimed one of the Continentals 

_|_ suddenly, when the time limit had almost expired. 

In the distance they all now could see some one 
riding swiftly up the road toward them, a cloud of dust 
marking his course. 

“ He’s coming fast ! I trust he is not the bearer of evil 
tidings,” said another. 

All the members of the party rode forward to meet their 
companion, Mrs. Gray herself going in advance of them all, 
and as the rider in the distance obtained a glimpse of them, 
he suddenly swung his hat in the air, and touching his 
horse with his spurs soon joined them. 

“Hurrah! It’s all right! They’ve agreed to send you 
forward ! ” called the excited man, as he rode up to the side 
of Mrs. Gray. 

“Thank God ! Thank God ! ” murmured the trembling 
lips of the woman. “I’ll never doubt again his care.” 

There was no delay now, and in a brief time the entire 
party was riding swiftly forward, with a white flag in the 
hands of the leader, and soon discovered a band of Hessian 
soldiers drawn up in the road before them and evidently 
waiting for their approach. 

Their tall fur hats, the high jack-boots, the heavy, short- 
swords that hung from the side of each man, the short car- 
222 


A TORY WELCOME 


223 


bines, all seemed out of place on that warm summer day. 
Perhaps under other circumstances the heart of Mistress 
Gray would have been stirred with pity for the strange men, 
far from home and exposed to all the dangers of death for 
a petty prince whose gambling debts they were supposed 
to be paying. 

The presence of the Hessians, or “Dutch butchers,” as 
the colonists commonly called them, did much to enrage 
the Americans in that struggle of our forefathers. Few of 
them realized then, and it is to be feared that too few have 
realized since, that the great body of Englishmen were as 
opposed to the employment of the men from Hesse as ever 
the sturdy Continentals themselves were. 

Indeed, it is now known that the great body of the people 
of England were bitterly opposed to the measures employed 
by their government against the American Colonies. All 
the trouble arose from the obstinacy, or worse, of a few men 
in authority, a lesson which the world has ever been slow 
to learn. How many quarrels might have been avoided, 
how much blood saved, if only the people had more clearly 
understood one another. The hearts of the people of Old 
England and of Young America have always been united 
when there has been a mutual understanding. Their quar- 
rels were like those of a mother and daughter, sad and un- 
necessary. May the God of peace have for evermore their 
hearts in his own keeping ! 

No such abstract thoughts as these, however, were in the 
mind of Mistress Gray, as in company with the five sturdy 
Continentals she advanced to the Hessian lines on that 
June day in 1777. 


224 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


When they were within hailing distance, the men halted, 
and an interpreter and an officer from the Hessian lines 
advanced. Then there was much waving of flags, signals 
were displayed, and many words spoken in a language 
which seemed harsh and guttural to the patriot mother, 
who, we may be sure, was a keen observer of all that was 
occurring. 

“You are free to advance. They have promised to re- 
ceive you and send you forward,” said one of her compan- 
ions after a brief time had passed. 

“ How am I to go? What am I to do ? ” 

“Ride forward to that officer wdio is waiting there, 
mounted on that wdiite horse. You’ll be perfectly safe.” 

Mistress Gray was frightened and her face was deadly 
pale as she rode slowly forward toward the man who was 
waiting for her. It is doubtful whether she saw very dis- 
tinctly the lines before her, and surely if it had not been 
for the vision of a suffering young prisoner, a vision with 
her by day and by night, she never would have ventured ; 
but whatever her fears may have been, she did not express 
them, and she was soon welcomed in a stately, courteous 
manner by the waiting officer, and then by his side rode 
forward within the Hessian lines. No sooner had she en- 
tered, however, than her heart almost stood still in sudden 
terror. A shout, such as she never had heard before, went 
up from the men of Hesse, and as she wildly glanced about 
her, she could see the angry men grasping their guns and 
evidently preparing for a charge upon her recent compan- 
ions. 

The men all seemed to be talking at the same time, and 


A TORY WELCOME 


225 


the harsh sounds of their voices and the angry expressions 
upon their faces increased her terror. She glanced wildly 
about her for a place of safety, but it was too late to return 
to her friends, and she dared not advance. Her way ap- 
parently was blocked on every side, and for a brief time the 
poor woman thought the end of her efforts had come and 
that failure was surely to be hers. 

Suddenly the excitement subsided as quickly as it had 
arisen. One of the officers rode up to her side and in his 
broken English explained to her the cause of the trouble. 
In the signaling there had been a movement connected 
with the flag which the Hessians had misunderstood and 
had instantly resented. ’ The interpreters at last had suc- 
ceeded in explaining all to the satisfaction of the soldiers, 
and soon the entire band started back toward Bound Brook, 
Mrs. Gray riding by the side of the officer who had first re- 
ceived her. 

And yet her heart was far from being at rest as she 
glanced occasionally about her at her strange companions. 
The heavy, black mustaches, which common report de- 
clared every soldier dyed with shoe blacking the first thing 
each morning, the expressionless, stolid features, and the 
strange garb of the men, all served to increase her alarm. 
But in less than an hour they arrived at Bound Brook and 
she was safe. 

There was a brief delay there, but soon an officer, evi- 
dently an Englishman or a Loyalist, came to her and said : 

“I am to have the pleasure of your company, madam, as 
far as Brunswick. Will it please you to start soon?” 

“ I am ready now.” 


p 


226 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


“ Very well, then we will go at once. It is only six miles 
and we shall soon be there,” he added, evidently noticing 
the weariness of Mistress Gray, which, with all her efforts, 
she could not entirely conceal. 

The ride along the beautiful bank of the Raritan was one 
which under other circumstances Mistress Gray would have 
enjoyed. The winding stream, the fertile meadows, the 
wooded shores, and occasional bluffs, combine to make the 
region one of the most beautiful in all New Jersey ; but 
before the eyes of the weary mother there was ever the pale 
face of her boy, marked by suffering and with pleading 
eyes, urging her to come to his aid. 

She noticed that her companion was a young man, not 
much older than Alexander, and his care for her was so 
marked that soon a part of her story was told to him. 

The young man listened respectfully, and said : “I heard 
a part of this. Mistress Gray, before we left Bound Brook. 
On such an errand you may rest assured that all I can do 
to aid you shall be done. I only trust that when the young 
man has recovered, he may come to view the hopeless 
struggle in a new light and return to his allegiance to his 
king and country.” 

“He is true to his country now,” replied Mistress Gray 
quietly. 

“ But his country is not true to him. Is that it ? ” 

“That I say not. The cause is greater than any man.” 

The young officer made no reply, and the ride was con- 
tinued in silence until the quaint old Dutch town could be 
seen in the distance. 

“And where am I to go now?” inquired Mrs. Gray. 


A TORY WELCOME 


227 


“That I have been thinking much about. My mother 
and sisters live here in Brunswick town. Their house is on 
King George’s Road and not far distant. They would will- 
ingly receive you as their guest until such a time as you 
can be sent forward on your journey.” 

“And would they take me, a patriot woman, into their 
house?” inquired Mrs. Gray, smiling sadly as she spoke. 

“That they would and gladly. A mother is a mother 
whether her son be clad in a scarlet coat or buff.” 

“Very well ; I shall be pleased to accept the hospitality 
you offer and to repay whatever is right.” 

“There will be nothing to pay. Hold! There maybe 
too. If ever I am situated as your son is now, then you 
may aid my mother as I am aiding you, for I know she 
would be as brave as you in searching for her boy.” 

The young man laughed lightly as he spoke and Mrs. 
Gray’s heart was drawn to him at once. As light-hearted 
as that had her Alexander been at one time. Would she 
ever see him again ? Was the fatherless to be forgotten ? 

“ We’ll soon be there,” said the young officer cheerily, as 
he heard the sigh which could not be repressed. 

“ I shall hope to be able to continue my journey. I wish 
not to delay.” 

“I will at once see wdiat arrangements can be made. 
First, I must visit the commander and secure permission 
for you to stay with my mother. There will be no diffi- 
culty in that, I am positive.” 

The sentinels were soon passed, the desired permission 
was easily obtained, and then Mrs. Gray departed for the 
home of the young officer. 


228 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


The welcome he received from his mother and sisters 
brought the tears into her eyes, but she had no doubt as to 
the reception she herself was to have as soon as young 
Lieutenant Van Horne had explained the cause of her visit 
to his family. The mother language was indeed a universal 
one, and buff coat or red could not hide it. 

The weary woman was at once made welcome and all 
things possible done for her comfort. In a brief time the 
young lieutenant, who had departed soon after his arrival, 
returned, and as he entered the room in which the women 
were seated, he said : 

“I have learned. Mistress Gray, that the ‘Sallie’ sails 
from here for New York to-morrow morning at sunrise. 1 
have secured passage for you, that is, if you care to depart 
so soon. She’s a trim sloop, and no time will be wasted on 
the voyage, I can assure you.” 

“I shall go. God has been good to me and raised up 
friends on every side. How could I ever doubt that he 
would provide for the fatherless? May his blessings be 
upon your heads for your goodness to me.” 

“ I think mothers are pretty much alike, the world over,” 
replied the young man lightly, although there were sus- 
picious traces of moisture in his eyes as he spoke. 

However, the welfare of the patriot mother was well 
looked to that night in the household of Mistress Van 
Horne, and it is doubtful whether the question of king or 
congress entered seriously the minds of any there. The 
thoughts of all were upon the suffering young prisoner and 
his brave-hearted mother, who was making such desperate 
efforts to go to his relief. 



*• • r have learned, Mistress Gray, that the “ Sallie ” sails to-morrow.’ ” 

Page 228. 








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A TORY WELCOME 


229 


The sun had not yet appeared in the eastern sky, when, 
on the following morning, the good-byes were spoken, and 
in the company of the young lieutenant Mrs. Gray departed 
for the dock, where the “ Sallie ” was all ready to sail. 

“Now, then, give my best regards to the young rebel,” 
said Lieutenant Van Horne lightly, “ and say to him that I 
trust he will soon be able to meet me on the field.” 

“ God forbid ! ” said Mrs. Gray. “ I would rather find a 
place for both of you in my own heart as my boys.” 

“ We have that now, I trust.” 

But the sloop was ready to depart, and the sailors were 
already casting off, so that no further farewell could be 
spoken. As the vessel made its way down the channel, 
Mrs. Gray stood and waved her handkerchief at the young 
officer, who still remained upon the dock. Soon the old 
town of Brunswick faded from sight, and all its inhabitants 
along 'with it, and then Mrs. Gray, with a sigh of relief, 
turned to observe her companions. 

There were several women among the passengers, but she 
had no disposition to converse with any of them at the 
time. In her heart there was a feeling of great relief, as 
she fondly believed the last part of her difficult journey 
would be free from peril. No Hessians would now be met, 
no enemies found, and soon she would be free to make her 
final attempt to rescue her boy. 

There was a feeling of peace too, as the sloop passed down 
the river. The shores were near, and the foliage of the 
trees, which grew along the banks, and the calls of the low- 
flying birds seemed to calm her fears. War was something 
far away. The widow and the fatherless w’ere sure to be 


230 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


cared for, and had it not been for the thought of the suffer- 
ing young soldier in the old sugar-house prison, INIrs. Gray 
would almost have felt at peace with all the world. 

The sloop had just passed out of the Raritan and entered 
upon the waters of Amboy Bay. The little waves glistened 
like silver under the rays of the morning sun. The rip- 
pling of the water under the bow of the sloop was all that 
could be heard. The quiet of the little river had given 
place to the greater quiet of the bay and the ocean beyond. 
Anything like the rude alarms of war seemed altogether 
absent from the peacefulness of the beautiful scene. 

In a moment, however, a change came. Cries were ut- 
tered by the frightened women on board the sloop, the 
sailors were rushing about the deck, and the skipper, still 
grasping the tiller in his hands, was giving sharp com- 
mands to his men. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


A PETITION 

T he cause of the commotion on board the peaceful 
“ Sallie ” was soon discovered. From a clump of 
bushes near the shore, close to which the sloop was 
passing, a puff of smoke had risen, the sound of a cannon 
broke in upon the stillness, and a large rent in the mainsail 
showed that the aim of the concealed gunners had been 
true. 

The confusion on board the vessel, although intense, did 
not prevent the instant action of the crew. The call of 
the skipper was quickly heeded by his men as they sprang 
to their tasks, and the ‘‘Sallie’s” course was changed. 
The ladies were all ordered below, both for the sake of 
safety and to give the sailors more freedom in their work, 
and trembling with fear and anxiety they awaited the 
issue of the unexpected attack. 

Once more it seemed to the patriot mother as if her 
every attempt to rescue her boy was sure to be thwarted. 
It was true she had been successful in making her way 
across New Jersey, but whenever her hopes had risen some- 
thing had occurred to dash them to the ground again. 
Among her friends she feared her enemies, and now among 
her enemies she feared her friends. 

Again and again the sound of the cannon on the shore 
was heard by the trembling women in the cabin, but ap- 

231 


232 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


parently the speed of the sloop had not been checked. 
The vessel rolled under the increasing wind, but its prog- 
ress was unabated, though at every moment the terror- 
stricken women expected to hear the sound of a cannon 
ball crashing into its sides. The moments dragged on, 
and with colorless faces and clasped hands they waited in 
an anxiety too deep for words. Every boom of the great 
gun caused some of them to utter a scream of terror ; but 
still the “ Sallie ” sped on before the wind as if she herself 
was mindful of her cargo and of the fears of her timid pas- 
sengers. 

Apparently the first shot had been best aimed, for as the 
moments passed, though the roar of the gun continued, as 
yet the sloop had not again been hit. The women could 
hear the sounds of the sailors moving about on the deck 
above, but the fact that the men seldom spoke was their 
only comfort. The suspense and the constant dread of 
hearing the crash of breaking timbers were almost unbear- 
able. 

At last, when a half-hour had passed, although none of 
the women had taken any thought of time, the skipper ap- 
peared in the cabin door and said cheerily : 

“ Come up on deck now, ladies. The danger’s all past.” 

“And will they not pursue us?” inquired one trem- 
blingly. 

“No, no,” and the skipper laughed. “The rebels had 
a hidden battery on the shore here, and we ran in a little 
too close for comfort. We knew there were some of them 
here at Amboy, but they’ve been so quiet we had no 
thought of trouble. We’ve got our e3^es open now and will 


A PETITION 


233 


try to keep them so. We’ll soon land you safe and sound 
in New York, never fear.” 

As the ladies returned to the deck, for the first time Mis- 
tress Gray rejoiced in the lack of success on the part of her 
own countrymen. Relieved now that the immediate dan- 
ger was past, she gazed with interest at the shores toward 
which the “Sallie” was now swiftly making her way. 
Not far distant were the lowlands of Staten Island, and 
from that favorite rendezvous of the Tories of the region 
she knew there was nothing to be feared. Indeed, the fears 
of all the passengers were gone now, and as the sloop, after 
a brief landing at the island, kept on her way, the imme- 
diate problem before Mistress Gray returned with increased 
force. 

When she had set forth from Philadelphia her one desire 
had been to make her way to New York, but now that she 
was almost there she hardly knew what to do. There was 
no one in the city to whom she could go, and to land there 
near dusk, alone and unprotected, was hardly to bethought 
of. There was no one on board the sloop to whom she 
could turn for advice or aid, and, indeed, as she had been 
silent concerning herself and her errand, no one, she was 
sure, suspected that she belonged to the side of the detested 
“ rebels.” 

At Flatbush dwelt a cousin of her husband’s. It had 
been years since she had seen him or his wife and she was 
not even sure that she would recognize either of them if she 
was to see them now ; besides, it had been reported to her 
that the man and his wife were stanch Tories. Her recent 
experiences had taught her that even her enemies might 


234 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


not be always unfriendly and that a mother’s efforts for a 
suffering boy were sometimes stronger in their appeals than 
the anger of contending armies. It was a great risk, she 
thought, but as the day was almost done and as it was im- 
possible to think of landing at nightfall, a stranger in a 
strange city, she decided to seek the home of Robert 
Bowen, her husband’s cousin in Flatbush, and trust his 
willingness to aid her in such a time as this. 

Accordingly she departed from the sloop when it made 
the landing on Long Island, and obtaining the aid of a lad 
to conduct her to the home of Robert Bowen, just before 
sunset she stood before the door of her Cousin Robert’s 
house and announced her presence with the aid of the 
heavy brass knocker. 

The door was opened by a man whom she thought to be 
Robert himself. 

“lam come to seek Mr. Robert Bowen,” she said f alter- 
ing! y. 

“ That is my name,” said the man kindly. “ What can 
I do for you? Will you enter?” he added, as he led the 
way within. 

With rapidly beating heart Mistress Gray followed him, 
and as she took her seat in the room he indicated, she 
said: “I am the wife of your cousin, Thomas Gray, for 
unless I mistake, you are his cousin, Robert Bowen.” 

“He was my cousin,” replied the man looking in sur- 
prise at the woman before him. “lam pleased to see you. 
I will at once call my wife and she will be as glad as I to 
make you welcome in our home.” 

Before he could turn away, Mrs. Gray broke forth with 


A PETITION 


235 


her story. The death of her husband, the capture and 
death of her own brothe-r David, and then the enlisting 
and consequent suffering of her own boy were all related. 

Mr. Bowen listened wonderingly, and the hard expres- 
sion upon his face when she first told of the sympathies of 
her husband and the parts her brother and son had taken 
in the struggle, gave place to a look of sympathy as she 
dwelt upon the needs of her own Alexander. 

“And you will aid me now, will you not?” she pleaded 
eagerly. “For the sake of my husband, who was of your 
own blood, and much more for the sake of my poor Alex- 
ander, you will not turn me away, I know you will not ! 
The poor lad may be dead even now, and his mother have 
come too late ; but you will assist me in getting to him, or 
in finding out the truth, I know you will. Cousin Kobert. 
Tell me you will ! ” 

“Such aid as I can give you, you shall have,” said the 
man gently. “And meanwhile you are a welcome guest in 
our house. It is not needful for me to assure you of that. 
I will now call my wife, who will be glad to see you and 
make you at home for the night, for we cannot go to the 
city before morning.” 

The welcome Mrs. Gray received was no doubtful one. 
For the moment, the bitter feelings of the war were forgot- 
ten or ignored, and her sorrow was shared by her friends. 

“ It is one of the saddest things about all this cruel war,” 
said Mr. Bowen on the following morning when they were 
seated at the breakfast table, “that such sorrows as yours 
can come. Poor boy ! I fancy some misguided friend in- 
duced him to take up arms against his king.” 


236 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


“If SO, his mother was that misguided friend,” replied 
Mrs. Gray, her eyes flashing for a moment in spite of her 
ever-present sorrow. “I was the one to urge him to go 
with Washington. Whatever befalls, I have no tears to 
shed over that part.” 

“There ! There ! ” said Mr. Bowen gently, as if he would 
quiet her as he would have quieted one of his children years 
before, for he was an old man now. “The war can’t last 
much longer, and with the coming of peace we’ll all hope 
the old feuds and feelings will be forgotten. How do you 
plan to obtain the release of the lad?” 

“I don’t know,” began Mrs. Gray, her voice breaking as 
she spoke. “ I don’t know.” 

Mr. Bowen was silent for a moment, and mistaking the 
cause, Mrs. Gray again broke forth: “Don’t you think I 
can do it? Oh, they must listen to me ! They will ! They 
must ! I’ve come all the way and braved many dangers 
just to beg for his release.” 

“ It isn’t the best way. I don’t say it can’t be done, but 
it isn’t the best plan.” 

“ What is the best way, then ? What can I do ? ” 

“ The way most do is to present a memorial to Sir William 
Howe. Now, I have been thinking of j'ou much of the 
night, and it seems to me I can aid you. I have a business 
acquaintance — a friend, I might say — in the city. His 
name is Jonathan Galloway, and perhaps for me he will be 
willing to draw up a memorial, for he is said to have great 
influence with the leaders.” 

“ Oh, thank you ! Thank you ! Let us go at once.” 

It was about the middle of the forenoon when Mr. Bowen 


A PETITION 


237 


and Mistress Gray entered the city. They passed the scar- 
let-clad soldiers in the lower part and soon after entered the 
office of Jonathan Galloway. After a brief introduction, 
Mr. Bowen presented his request for a memorial, stating 
only a few facts in the case. 

Mr. Galloway, pompous, self-assertive in his manner, lis- 
tened condescendingly to the story, but at first made no 
reply. 

“It was unfortunate,” began Mr. Bowen again, “that the 
son of this good woman took up arms against his king. He 
was but a lad at best, and not having arrived at man’s 
estate can hardly be considered responsible for all he has 
done. Soon after the battle of Long Island he was taken 
prisoner ” 

“Along with others,” interrupted Mr. Galloway, with a 
grim smile. 

“Along with many others,” repeated Mr. Bowen ; “and 
has been a prisoner ever since.” 

“What would you have me do?” said the merchant 
bluntly. 

“Perhaps nothing, ordinarily ; but this is a unique case. 
The lad, for he is but a lad, as I said, has been stricken 
with the fever. His mother, receiving word of his illness, 
has come all the way from Philadelphia to his aid. She 
wishes to obtain permission to remove him, if he is still 
living, from the sugar house to some place where she can 
nurse him back to health. We have come to you, hoping 
that you might lend us your great influence in such a case.” 

“Madajn, I shall assist you,” said Jonathan Galloway, in 
his most pompous manner. “ We can all of us, I trust, feel 


238 


A TRISONER IN BUFF 


for a mother. I once had one myself. The proper course 
will be to present a memorial to Sir William, who ever has 
been lenient — far too lenient at times, I fear — with his 
majesty’s rebellious subjects. If you desire, I will at once 
draw up such a paper and do all in my power to aid you.” 

The brimming eyes of Mrs. Gray were her only reply. 
The words were almost too good to be true, she thought, 
and the widow’s heart was full as the long-desired end of 
her journey seemed almost to have been gained. 

Jonathan Galloway at once seated himself before a small 
table in the room, and taking up his goose-quill pen began 
to write. For a time the scratching of his pen was the only 
sound to be heard. Occasionally the pompous man paused, 
and biting his pen, gazed abstractedly toward the low ceil- 
ing, as if on it somewhere must be written the word he 
desired. 

Mrs. Gray waited with breathless eagerness, and beyond 
the walls of the room seemed to see her soldier boy rolling 
and tossing and moaning in his fever on the floor of Van 
Cortlandt’s sugar house. But the end had almost come, 
and soon she would herself be bathing the fevered brow 
and whispering the words of endearment which she had 
used when he was a little fellow and had climbed into her 
lap or thrown his arms about her neck. 

“There!” exclaimed Jonathan at last, apparently satis- 
fied with his labors. “I think that will move Sir William’s 
heart.” 

Mrs. Gray sat leaning forward in her chair, and with 
streaming eyes listened as the pompous merchant began to 
read what he had written : 


A PETITION 


239 


“Whereas, Mistress Gray has always been a true friend 
and faithful subject of His Majesty King George III. ; and, 
whereas, her son, an inexperienced youth, has been deluded 
by the arts of designing men ” 

“Stop ! Stop ! ” groaned Mistress Gray. “ It is not true. 
I can never obtain the release of iny boy on those terms.” 

For a moment the pompous man glowered at the weeping 
woman as if he could not believe the evidence of his own 
ears. “ What’s the matter with the terms? ” he demanded. 

“It is not true that my Alexander was ‘deluded by the 
arts of designing men.’ He was a patriot lad and the son 
of a patriot mother. His mother’s prayers went with him 
when he entered General Washington’s army.” 

“ Then, -madam, I can do nothing for you,” said the man 
coldly. 

“Oh, it is not a question of loyalist or patriot now,” 
sobbed Mrs. Gray. “It is life and death. He is just a 
poor, suffering boy, waiting for the touch of his mother’s 
hand. He is dying with the fever. He may be dead even 
now. Surely, surely, you can leave these things unsaid 
and just beg of Sir William to hear the cry of a broken- 
hearted mother, and she a widow.” 

“ Madam, I can do nothing for you. My aid is not given 
to rebels.” 

And Mrs. Gray, perceiving the uselessness of further 
appeal, at once departed from the merchant’s office with 
Robert Bowen. 

“I fear you have ruined all. And you might have saved 
your boy,” said Mr. Bowen, as they stood once more in 
the street. 


240 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


The widow’s eyes flashed through her tears for a moment 
as she faced her companion, and then once more the sense 
of her utter helplessness swept over her and she buried her 
face in her hands, while her body was shaken with the 
violence of Ifer grief and suffering. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


SIR WILLIAM 

T he glance of sympathy given by Mr. Bowen, in spite of 
his irritation over what he had been pleased to call 
“the foolish scruples” of his companion, seemed to 
recall Mrs. Gray to the necessity of action, and by a visible 
effort she restrained herself and looked up at her friend. 

“It is not all ruined,” she said more calmly. “I have 
j^et a hope left.” 

“ What do you plan to do ? ” 

“ I am going to seek Sir William himself.” 

Mr. Bowen shook his head, as he said quietly: “I fear 
me you will not be able to obtain entrance into his pres- 
ence without a memorial or letter of introduction of some 

kind. If you had not spoiled Jonathan’s proposal ” 

“ I can try, anyway,” interrupted Mrs. Gray. “If I fail, 
I fail ; but I shall be no worse off then than I am now.” 
“And you will go to his house now?” 

“Yes, yes. This very minute.” 

“I’ll go with you,” said her companion, 3 feeling of 
something very like awe taking possession of him at the 
change in his companion. Perhaps, after all, he thought 
of some power greater than that of a helpless widow as 
being behind it all. 

“ I shall be grateful to you if you will guide me to Sir 
William’s quarters. Know you where he dwells?” 

Q 


241 


242 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


Mr. Bowen nodded his head and together they walked in 
silence until they came within sight of the old colonial 
house in which Sir William Howe had his headquarters. 

“ It is as I feared,” said Mr. Bowen. “You see, you will 
not be permitted to enter the house without a pass of some 
kind. The guard will not permit it.” 

Mrs. Gray glanced up at the words and perceived a scarlet- 
clad soldier, slowly pacing back and forth in front of the 
house. For a moment she hesitated as the new fear seized 
her. 

Quickly rousing herself she said hurriedly to her com- 
panion, “ Stay here on this side of the street” ; and before 
Mr. Bowen was fairly aware of what was taking place, the 
desperate woman darted across and approached the guard. 

“ I would see Sir William,” she exclaimed, as the soldier 
halted and glanced at her. 

“Have you a permit?” he inquired. 

“No.” 

“Then ’tis against orders,” he said, as he prepared to 
resume his beat. 

“I know it, I know it,” exclaimed the well-nigh frantic 
woman. “But this is a matter of life and death. ’Tis 
connected with the prison, the sugar house,” she added 
eagerly. “ I must see Sir William, and at once.” 

The guard hesitated, and taking advantage of his momen- 
tary uncertainty, Mrs. Gray pushed past and ran eagerly up 
the steps, and before the soldier could recover from his 
surprise, or order her to return, she had lifted the heavy 
brass knocker and her summons was heard in the stately 
hall. 


SIR WILLIAM 


243 


Her heart was beating furiously now and her breath 
came in gasps. She felt as if she must cry out in her suffer- 
ing. If the guard should compel her to return before her 
summons was answered, her efforts would be vain. She 
dared not turn to look at him, though she felt that his eyes 
were upon her, and every moment she expected to hear 
his call or feel his hands laid upon her shoulder. Would 
no one open the door for her? In her eagerness she again 
lifted the knocker and excitedly repeated her summons. 

To her inexpressible relief a servant opened the door, 
and before a word could be spoken Mrs. Gray quickly 
entered and as quickly closed the door behind her. 

Apparently satisfied that his breach of orders was likely 
to be overlooked, and that the case must certainly be an 
urgent one when a lady of the bearing of the one who had 
just entered tlie house betrayed so much excitement, the 
guard wonderingly resumed his beat, glancing curiously 
from the house across the street to the place where Mr. 
Bowen was standing, apparently as surprised as himself at 
the movements of the woman who had disappeared within. 

Perceiving that he was attracting attention, Mr. Bowen 
turned and walked up the street, muttering to himself : “It 
beats all reason. Who ever saw the like of that woman 
before ! I don’t see how she managed it.” 

Nevertheless his e3'es were strangely soft in their ex- 
pression, and when he had gone to a distance which he 
thought would not attract the attention of the guard, he 
paused and remained where he was, all the time looking 
toward Sir William’s house and awaiting the return of his 
recent companion with the keenest interest. Meanwhile, 


244 


A PKISONER IN BUFE 


Mistress Gray, too excited to accept a seat in the hall, to 
which the servant pointed after looking questioningly at 
her unexpected visitor, said: “I would see Sir William 
Howe. I must see him at once.” 

“ Shall I tell him who desires to see him ? ” 

“No. No. Wait not for that. Tell him it is a matter 
of life and death, and that I must see him at once. Im- 
mediately ! Immediately ! ” she added, slipping a coin into 
the servant’s hand as she spoke. 

“’Tis strange. ’Tis against strict orders.” 

“Never mind that now. Sir William will understand. 
Go, my good wench ; go at once.” 

“I know not whether he will see you, but I’ll take in 
your word,” said the servant, first leading the way into a 
stately reception room, and Mrs. Gray followed her, realiz- 
ing now that she would only increase her trouble by dis- 
regarding the proprieties. 

With all her efforts at self-control, however, she was too 
excited to be seated. As soon as the serving woman de- 
parted, her first endeavor was to collect her scattered 
thoughts and think of what she would say when the great 
leader came. The supreme moment had arrived at last, 
and she must prepare herself for the issue. 

But her thoughts could not be controlled. In her restless- 
ness she began to move about the room, but the massive 
furniture and the full-length portraits that were hanging 
upon the walls failed to interest her. Wherever she stood 
her glance kept turning toward the door where first Sir 
William would be seen, or the servant would return with a 
message that would mean she had failed. 


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SIR WILLIAM 


245 


The moments passed and still no one came. Beginning 
now to fear that her message had not been delivered by the 
servant, she was almost beside herself in her anxiety. 
Again she made the circuit of the room, vainly looking for 
some expression of sympathy on those forbidding faces that 
surrounded her. 

She had gone almost around the room when she almost 
uttered a cry as she turned and beheld a man standing in 
the doorway and quietly observing her. Her surprise and 
confusion had been increased by the thought, when she 
first beheld the man, that it was George Washington. Tall, 
stately, dignified, the man certainly bore a marvelous re- 
semblance to the commander of the American armies. 

This resemblance between Sir William Howe and General 
Washington was well known and much commented upon 
at the time by those who knew both men ; but Mrs. Gray 
had never heard the fact referred to, and her confusion was 
but natural. The face of Sir William Howe, however, was 
not so stern or strong as that of his great opponent, and his* 
entire bearing indicated the possession of a much more 
easy-going and indolent disposition. His easier life, per- 
haps, had tended to develop this, and his genial manners 
and kindly ways had made him the most popular of all the 
British officers with the scarlet-clad troops. 

The resemblance, startling as it at first appeared to be to 
Mistress Gray, was soon dispelled, and the troubled woman 
quickly concluded that she was standing in the presence of 
the man she had so long and so eagerly been seeking. 

‘‘Sir William Howe?” she faltered. 

The stately man bowed and waited in silence. 


246 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


111 a moment her fears were driven from her mind and 
all her pent-up courage returned. “Oh, sir,” she began 
eagerly, “ I have come to beg of you to release my only boy 
from the sugar-house prison. He is dying there ; yes, dy- 
ing, I fear. And he is only a boy, a poor, sick, fatherless 
boy, and all I have in this world. Even now it may be too 
late. Oh, I beg of you, I beg of you, to hear the widow’s 
plea and grant me this one request ! ” 

Surprised as Sir William was by the sudden outburst, the 
eager woman could not fail to see that he was moved by her 
tears and pleadings. 

“Be seated, madam,” he said courteously, “and explain 
to me a little more fully what it is you desire.” 

Mrs. Gray accepted the chair he offered and then related 
her story. She told of the enlisting of the youthful Alex- 
ander, of the part he had taken in the great battle, of the 
sad word that had come of his illness, and then of the 
perilous journey she had taken to come to his relief. She 
spoke rapidly, almost incoherently at times, in her effort 
to keep back the tears, and Sir William listened quietly to 
the end. 

“And if I give you his release,” he said at last, “it will 
be only for him to take up arms again against his king and 
mine as soon as he has recovered, I fear.” 

“I know nothing of the future,” began Mrs. Gray pas- 
sionately. “That is all in God’s keeping. I only know 
now that my poor boy is suffering for that which only his 
mother can give him. He was young to be a soldier, too 
young. He loved his country, I cannot deny that, but now 
he only needs the love of his mother. He can only be a 


SIR WILLIAM 


247 


burden to you as he is, and to free him will relieve you as 
well as aid me. Surely, surely you can grant me this and 
leave the future to itself. I beg of you, by the love of your 
own mother, by the promise for those who hear and heed 
the cry of the fatherless and the widow, to grant me this 
my prayer ! ” 

The tears were streaming from her eyes now and her 
quivering lips and desperate pleadings had strongly moved 
Sir William, whose heart was never a hard one. For a 
moment he hesitated, and then said gently : 

“Madam, I fear it is the man and not the military com- 
mander who hears you, but I cannot say you nay. Upon 
one condition I will grant your request.” 

“And what is that?” 

“That you will give me your promise, in case the lad 
recovers, that he shall be considered as on his parole until 
he has been regularly exchanged.” 

“Yes, yes ; ITl promise you that,” exclaimed Mrs. Gray 
eagerly. 

“Then wait here a moment, madam, until I write the 
word.” And as he spoke, he rose and departed from the 
room. 

When he returned and handed her the written release, 
the widow’s eyes were shining through her tears and her 
face was suffused with a new light. 

“Sir William,” she said gently, as she took the paper, 
“I shall not attempt to express my gratitude. You know 
how I feel. But from this time the prayers of the widow 
and the fatherless shall be yours.” 

“I need them, I need them all,” he replied gently. 


248 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


The picture of Sir William Howe standing in the doorway 
of his house, tall, courtly, dignified, and with a tender glow 
upon his face, never faded from Mrs. Gray’s mind. He 
might be an enemy of her country, but to her he w^as the 
gentleman. 

As she hastened along the street, it seemed to her as if 
the very earth on which she trod was bathed in sunshine. 
All the perils through which she had passed were forgotten 
in the new joy which now filled her heart. Her step w'as 
buoyant with a new hope, and the light of a new life was 
all about her. 

“You succeeded, I see.” 

She glanced up and saw Mr. Bowen before her. “Yes! 
Yes!” she exclaimed eagerly. “Sir William has heard 
my prayer. He has signed a release for my poor boy.” 

“He has a kind heart, too kind his friends think. If 
only he himself would look into the condition of the rebel 
prisoners, they would be better off, I fancy.” 

The words instantly recalled to Mrs. Gray the last duty 
to be done, the seeking of the young prisoner in the place 
where he was confined. Suddenly the brightness of the 
morning faded, and in a low' voice she said : “ My boy is in 
Van Cortlandt’s sugar house. Do you know where that is? 
Can you lead me there ? ” 

“Yes, yes, I know.” 

“Let us hasten. Come! Come! We must not delay 
now.” 

Mr. Bow'en quickened his steps, though he made no re- 
ply. In his heart there was the great fear that the mother 
had come too late. The thought of the disappointment 


SIR WILLIAM 


249 


which might be in store bore heavily even upon him. 
Confined, as Alexander had been, in the loathsome place 
for so many weary months, was it in the least probable she 
would find her boy there now? And he had been stricken 
with the fever and suffering from disease for many weary 
days. 

“Where is the sugar house?” inquired Mrs. Gray, in a' 
low voice. 

“ It is at the northwest corner of Trinity churchyard, at 
the corner of Thames and Lumber Streets.” 

“Is it far from here?” 

“ Not very. We can easily walk there.” 

“ Oh, then, let us make haste ! ” 

Neither spoke as they began to walk more rapidly, for 
the unspoken fear in the heart of each prevented all at- 
tempts at conversation. The expression upon the face of 
the eager mother was almost appalling to her companion ; 
but hoping almost against hope, he walked by her side 
until at last they had turned into Thames Street and saw 
the gloomy, forbidding stone building before them, which 
was known as Van Cortlandt’s sugar house. 


CHAPTER XXX 


IN PRISON " 

T he appearance of the gloomy building was certainly 
sombre and repellent. In addition to the basement 
there were four stories and a loft. On the side which 
they could see as they approached there was only one win- 
dow on each floor, although on the adjoining sides there 
were four small windows to be seen. The heart of the 
eager mother now was oppressed and almost hopeless as 
she looked up at the huge structure and thought of the 
many weary weeks which had passed since her own poor 
lad had entered within its walls. 

The four thousand prisoners which the British had taken 
in the battle of Long Island and in the attack on Fort 
Washington, or Fort Knyphausen, as it was now called, had 
since been increased by the addition of a thousand men 
who had been arrested and confined on the mere suspicion 
that they favored the “rebel ” cause. These men for the 
most part had been taken from New York and Brooklyn, 
or the immediate vicinity, for it had been determined by 
the British leaders to follow up the successes which had at- 
tended their recent efforts and crush the rebellion by de- 
priving the suspected friends of the patriot cause of “lib- 
erty and the pursuit of happiness,” and it is to be feared 
in many instances of “ life ” as well. 

As a consequence of the large additions to the prisoners, 
250 


IN PRISON 


251 


all the jails in New York had been filled to overflowing 
and the three sugar houses in the town, the largest build- 
ings in the city at that time, had been called into service. 
In addition, the North Dutch Church, the Middle Dutch 
Church, the Brick Church, the French and Scotch Churches 
had also been made use of, and quarters there found for 
the unfortunate men. Disease and death had made sad in- 
roads upon the numbers, and the increased room was not 
all now required ; but Van Cortlandt’s sugar house was 
still in use. 

It is only just to say, however, that in all probability 
Sir William Howe was not aware of all the sufferings and 
privations of the prisoners, for the brutal Irishman, Cun- 
ningham, was in control of them all ; but perhaps the 
commander ought to have informed himself, and he is to 
be blamed for his easy-going methods and neglect. 

Unconsciously Mrs. Gray quickened her steps as she be- 
held the great building, and her companion, appreciating 
the feelings which were in her heart, kept close to her side. 
They were soon before the entrance to the building, but 
IMr. Bowen could not restrain the exclamation which rose 
to his lips when he beheld the brutal provost marshal, 
Cunningham himself, standing in the doorway. 

“What is it? what is it?” inquired Mrs. Gray trem- 
blingly, quick to feel and hear anything which was likely 
to increase her anxiety. 

“ There’s Cunningham,” said Mr. Bowen in a low voice. 

“He cannot hinder us now, for we have Sir William’s 
order with us.” 

Nevertheless, Mrs. Gray’s heart sank when she beheld 


262 


A PKISONER IN BUFF 


the face of the man to whom her companion had referred. 
Coarse, cruel, evidently dissipated, the appearance of the 
provost marshal was most revolting. His occupation had 
given free rein to his natural impulses, and even increased 
them as well, and certainly he was one, if his bearing was 
any indication of his character, who well deserved the 
loathing and hatred with which he was regarded by all at 
that time. 

However, Mrs. Gray did not speak ; indeed she could 
not, for in her eagerness now she was trembling violently 
and could not control her voice. But her friend was ready 
to act, and as they approached the steps he quietly saluted 
the man before them. 

The salutation was not returned and Cqnningham stared 
coldly at them as if he was wondering what had influenced 
them to come to the sugar house. 

“Mr. Cunningham,” said Mr. Bowen, “this lady has an 
order from Sir William Howe for the release of one of the 
prisoners confined here.” 

“She has, has she?” growled the provost marshal, 
scowling at the trembling woman as he spoke. “Well, 
let’s see it.” 

Mrs. Gray held forth the paper which Sir William Howe 
had given her, and as the man took it and began to read, 
her fears returned with redoubled force. The scowl on the 
marshal’s face increased and a flush of anger spread over it 
as well. 

At last he looked up and said angrily : “I wish Sir Wil- 
liam would attend to his own affairs and leave me to mine. 
He’s too soft-hearted, he is, to be after havin’ anything to 


IN PRISON 


253 


do wid de prisoners. He’ll never succeed till the rebels 
hev bin crushed ; an’ its crushin’ ’em I am, bedad ! Per- 
haps this isn’t all right,” he suddenly added. “How 
should I be after knowin’ ?” 

“ It is all right, and was written by Sir William this very 
day,” said Mr. Bowen. 

“ Yez seem to be moighty well informed yersilf,” sneered 
Cunningham. “An’ who may yez be, if I might be after 
inquirin’ ?” 

“It doesn’t make any difference to you who I am. You 
have Sir William’s letter and that is sufficient.” 

“Sufficient, is it? Yez maybe one o’ the traitors we 
haven’t got yit. We can accommodate the loikes of you, 
I’m thinkiii’ There’s room for one more.” 

“You haven’t anything to do with me. We’ve brought 
you a letter straight from Sir William Howe, and if you 
don’t receive it. I’ll go back to him and find the reason 
why. You can’t use me as you do your prisoners.” 

Cunningham’s anger threatened to break all bands. His - 
face became purple in his rage and he glowered at Mr. 
Bowen, who remained standing quietly before him, appar- 
ently unmoved by his anger. Perhaps his very quiet- 
ness was not without its effect on the provost marshal, for 
at all event, he said: “I’m not sayin’ the order isn’t all 
right, for it is. Here you. Bill ! ” he suddenly bellowed, 
turning toward the hallway as he spoke. 

In response to his summons a keeper speedily appeared, 
and as he stood respectfully before his superior, Cunning- 
ham said to him : “Bill, have yez got a prisoner here wid 
de name o’ Alexander Gray?” 


254 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


The keeper shook his head as he replied : “I don’t know 
any such man. Still,” he added, perhaps not unmoved by 
the sight of the deadly pallor which spread over the face of 
the woman before him as he spoke, “we don’t know the 
names of many of the prisoners, and he may be here with- 
out my knowing his name. We deals with ’em mostly by 
numbers, ye see.” 

“ Yez hear what the kaper has to say to yez,” laughed 
Cunningham brutally. 

“ Oh, but he is here, I know he’s here ! ” exclaimed Mrs. 
Gray, unable longer to remain silent. 

“The keeper doesn’t know him, thin, that’s all I can 
say,” replied the marshal. 

“We are certain he is here,” said Mr. Bowen quickly, 
“ and if it is necessary we shall go back to Sir William and 
get a permit for a search.” 

If the truth was known, Mr. Bowen did not feel at all 
positive that the young prisoner was still in the sugar 
house. His main fear was that he was not there, but that 
he had been carried away with the silent loads, stored 
every morning in the waiting oxcarts. 

, “ Well, thin, let ’em look,” said Cunningham gruffly. 

“It won’t be much of a loss, anyway. Mind ye,” he 
added sharply to the keeper, “don’t yez let ’em get the 
wrong man. Be sure yez look him up before ye let him 
lave. This one is sick, so the paper says. The rascals be 
all the toime pretendin’ to be sick ! Don’t yez get the 
wrong man out, that’s all I want to warn yez.” And after 
handing the precious paper to the keeper, Cunningham 
turned on his heel and departed. 


IN PRISON 


255 


In a moment Mrs. Gray and Mr. Bowen followed the 
keeper as he led the way within. The loathsome surround- 
ings, the dark and gloomy hallways, the foul and almost 
stifling air, were almost more than could be borne. In 
spite of the sad mother’s eagerness she felt as if she could 
not breathe. She w^anted to cry aloud and call for her boy. 

Still she restrained herself and silently followed the man 
as they entered the great room on the first floor. Pale, 
bloodless, emaciated faces turned and stared at her as she 
came into the room. Many of the men were lying upon 
the floor, and the few who were standing or walking about 
the room glanced at her with an expression almost devoid 
of interest. The entrance of even a woman had ceased to 
arouse them in their hopelessness. 

“I want Alexander Gray. Is there any one here by that 
name?” called the keeper. Silently and without expres- 
sion the prisoners looked at him, but no one responded. 

“He’s sick. Let us look among the sick,” said Mr. 
Bowen quickly. 

So up and down the room and back and forth Mrs. Gray 
searched, peering down into sad faces, which did not even 
open their eyes ; but the missing boy could not be found. 

“ We’ll try the second floor,” said the keeper, when con- 
vinced that the suffering Alexander was not there. 

A careful search among the men on the second floor met 
with no better success. Mrs. Gray was struggling desper- 
ately to keep back her sobs, and the feeling of hopelessness 
settled more deeply upon her. 

“ We’ll try the third floor,” said the keeper at last. “ We 
may have better success there.” 


256 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


But the eagerness of the woman met with the same dis- 
appointment. The keeper called the name, but still no one 
responded. Then with a breaking heart the mother moved 
about in the foul room, peering eagerly into the faces of 
the outstretched men, and hoping now almost against hope 
that she w’ould discover her missing boy among them ; but 
all her efforts were unrewarded, and at last they left this 
room as they had previously left the others. 

“There are a few men on the fourth floor. We’ll go up 
there and look. He may be there. The last’s the best, 
you know, sometimes,” said the keeper kindly. 

The man tried to speak cheeringly, but it was evident 
that he did not expect to find the one for whom they were 
searching. Mr. Bowen had long since abandoned all hope, 
and the look of agony on the face of Mrs. Gray showed that 
she too had little expectation now of finding the long-lost 
lad. Still she was determined to complete the search, and 
followed the men to the room above. 

Here too, as they entered, they were met by the foul air 
and stifling odors. Here too, the men were lying on the 
floor or standing in little groups near the windows, and it 
was at once apparent that the entrance of strangers had 
but slight effect upon the prisoners. 

“ Is there any one here named Alexander Gray ?” called 
the keeper. The men listened, but still no one replied. 

“I fear he is not here,” said the keeper. “You know 
I told you I did not know any one by that name.” 

“We shall search. I shall look,” said Mrs. Gray with 
frantic eagerness. “It is my last hope. Oh, he must be 
here ; he must be here ! ” 


IN PRISON 


257 


There were no tears in her eyes now ; but to her com- 
panions the pinched and drawn features of her face seemed 
to indicate that years instead of minutes had passed over 
her since tliey had entered the building. 

In advance of the others she passed rapidly down the 
room, gazing into the faces of the suffering men with an 
agony that surpassed their own ; but still the lost lad was 
not found. She had gone the length of the room and had 
turned to retrace her way among the forms stretched upon 
the floor, when every one was startled by a scream such as 
in all his life he had never heard before. Piercing, agoniz- 
ing, the shrill cry ran out. Even the sick turned upon 
their sides as they heard it, and those who were seated 
started forward as they beheld the form of a woman lean- 
ing low over the body of a man outstretched upon the floor. 

“Pve found him! Pve found him! Oh, thank God! 
Thank God ! He’s here ! He’s here ! ” 

Instantly Mr. Bowen darted forward to the assistance of 
his friend and beheld the frail, emaciated body of a young 
soldier on the floor. With sightless eyes he was looking 
up into the face which was close to his own, but there was 
no gleam of recognition to be seen. The face was flushed 
with fever and the sunken eyes gleamed as if they were on 
fire. 

How the mother could have recognized in the filthy, un- 
kempt, skeleton-like form before her the lost boy, Mr. 
Bowen could not understand. But then, his was not a 
mother’s love and its language was not for him. 

For a moment he turned and gazed about him. Some of 

the wretched prisoners were sobbing aloud, and down the 

R 


258 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


faces of others the silent tears were coursing, leaving behind 
them strange marks upon the filth-covered features. Even 
the keeper, accustomed as he was to scenes of sorrow, was 
not unmoved, and for a time it seemed as if the room was 
flooded with a soft light, as those who were there w’atched 
the broken-hearted mother in her joy. 

“It makes me think of the story of the widow of Nain,” 
murmured Mr. Bowen to himself. “The only son of his 
mother and she a widow. Plow shall we get him out of 
here?” he added in a whisper to the keeper, who was 
standing by his side. 

“That can be fixed all right. You stay here and ITl 
attend to it.” 

Mr. Bowen watched the man as he departed from the 
room. He heard the sound of the lock when the door was 
closed and knew that he was shut in with the prisoners. 
But it was evident that he was not greatly alarmed, for he 
bent low to listen to the words of Mrs. Gray, who had 
turned to speak to him. 



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CHAPTER XXXI 


CONCLUSION 

N OW that the lost had been found, Mrs. Gray was all 
eagerness to take the suffering boy from the foul 
prison house ; and when, in response to her appeal, 
Mr. Bowen explained that the keeper had gone to make 
arrangements for that very purpose, she endeavored to 
await his return with such patience as she could muster. 
Apparently the least concerned of all was young Alexander. 
Not once had he recognized his mother, and his weakness 
was so great that he could not even turn his head, or lift 
his hand. 

It was a pathetic scene, and more than once Mr. Bowen 
found himself looking toward the door for the appearance 
of the keeper who would assist them to take the young 
soldier from his place. In a half-hour the man came back 
and informed them that he had succeeded in obtaining a 
stretcher and four men, who would carry the patient from 
the building. 

This was soon done, and interested as were those who 
were immediately concerned, the sight was too common to 
arouse much interest in the guard, or even among the in- 
mates of the sugar house. Carefully the sufferer was borne 
to the river, where there was a boat in waiting for Mr. 
Bowen, and then, placing the lad on board, they all sailed 
away for the home on Long Island. 


259 


260 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


Fearful as the mother was that the strength of her boy 
would not be equal to the strain, it was soon discovered 
that the change had greatly benefited him. On the follow- 
ing day the young soldier lay as in a stupor, scarcely mov- 
ing in the bed or uttering a sound. In the days which 
soon came, however, a decided improvement set in, not 
uniform, it is true, but yet sure. There would be times 
when the fever would return and the hopes of the watching 
woman would fail, but these would be followed by a still 
more decided change for the better, and when three weeks 
had passed, Alexander was declared to be out of danger 
and well on the way to complete health. 

He himself afterward declared that his progress had been 
much like that of the famous frog, whose efforts to free 
himself from the well into which he had unluckily fallen 
were described in the problems in arithmetic. He would 
gain a certain number of feet and then fall back a part of 
the distance he had gained, and as the experience was re- 
peated, the problem became to solve the length of time that 
would be required before he was safe. 

Mrs. Gray would smile, content now that her boy was 
regaining something of his former life and spirits, and de- 
clared the one great problem of all had been happily solved 
for her. 

As the days passed and Alexander still steadily improved, 
he was soon able to go out of the house and move slowly 
about in the garden, ever attended by his devoted mother. 

One day, when they had returned from a walk and were 
seated together upon the piazza, he said : 

“ I’ve been here a long time, haven’t I?” 


CONCLUSION 


261 


“Yes, my boy.” 

“And it is now July, isn’t it?” 

“July ? Why, it’s the middle of August ! ” 

For a moment he was silent, and then said: “Are we 
going back to Philadelphia?” 

“I fear not ; at least not soon.” 

“Why not?” 

Then his mother explained to him what had occurred 
since his illness, and Alexander listened with eyes wide 
open. Mrs. Gray did not know of the inner causes of the 
movements of the contending forces as we do to-day, but 
reports had come to her which were of deep interest to the 
young soldier. 

Charles Lee, the captive American general, had formerly 
been an officer in the army of the king. He had been taken, 
after his capture, to New York and placed in the City Hall ; 
but he soon began to fear that Lord Howe looked upon him 
as a deserter and would treat him as he deserved. There 
was nothing to which the traitorous man more objected 
than that, and when he learned that he was to be sent to 
England, — and indeed he was even carried on shipboard, — 
he was in desperate straits. 

It was Washington, the man whom he hated and against 
whom he had been plotting, who now came to his relief. 
The American commander sent word to Lord Howe that as 
he himself held five of the prominent Hessian officers as 
prisoners, he should consider them as hostages for the 
safety of General Lee. 

Lord Howe, tender-hearted and fearful of the effects of 
the implied threat upon his Hessian allies, yielded, and for 


262 


A PRISONER IN RUFF 


the time Charles Lee was safe. But the traitor, instead of 
appreciating the magnanimity and kindness of Washington, 
at once began to plot with his captors. For eiglity years 
after the war his letters were hidden, but they have been 
since discovered and reveal him in his true light. 

The policy of Howe, and that which his friends and ene- 
mies alike expected of him, was to move up the Hudson 
and meet the forces of General Burgoyne, which had started 
from Canada, intending to march to Albany and there join 
the troops which should come up from New York, and so 
effectually split asunder the rebellious colonies and put an 
end to the war. 

Perhaps Charles Lee’s words did not have the weight we 
think they did ; but at all events, he informed Lord Howe 
that he had always been opposed to the Declaration of In- 
dependence, — which was a base lie, as his letter to Edward 
Rutledge clearly show's, — and that he believed that if he, 
Lee, could have the opportunity granted him, he could 
persuade the rebellious subjects of King George to abandon 
the hopeless struggle. 

Lord How'e, eager as we know he w'as for peace, permitted 
Lee to send a letter to Congress, but the sturdy patriots 
refused to listen. Then Lee advised the British leaders to 
send an army of fourteen thousand men to drive Washing- 
ton out of New Jersey and capture the rebel capital, Phila- 
delphia, while four thousand more men should go by water 
and take Alexandria and Annapolis. 

He assured Lord Howe that Maryland and Pennsylvania 
w'ere full of Tories, and that by thus seizing the “ central 
colonies,” he would have their aid as soon as his armies 


CONCLUSION 


263 


appeared, and then Virginia and New England, the hotbeds 
of rebellion, would be kept apart and so rendered harmless. 

Whether Howe was moved solely by Lee’s advice is not 
known ; but at all events, on the twelfth of June, 1777, he 
started with an army, twice as large as that of Washington’s, 
across New Jersey. Washington learned of the plan, and 
about ten miles from New Brunswick placed his army on 
Howe’s flank. No battles were fought, but the superb 
strategy of the great American commander has since be- 
come the admiration of the world, and after eighteen days 
Howe returned to New York and placed his entire army on 
Staten Island. 

About the last of July, or the first of August, Washington 
learned that Howe’s fleet had been seen off the Delaware 
capes, and he himself then rapidly advanced to German- 
town, hardly daring to hope that Howe had really given up 
the plan of joining Burgoyne, for which movement he had 
himself been constantly preparing. Perhaps Howe had 
been led to believe that the boastful “John Burgoyne, Es- 
quire,” as he signed himself, was able to take care of him- 
self and that he was free to follow Lee’s advice. 

At all events, Howe’s movement was as fortunate for his 
enemies as it was unfortunate for himself ; but as the 
actions which speedily followed do not properly belong to 
this story, we must leave them for our readers to gain by 
other means. 

We may be sure, however, that young Alexander Gray, 
now for the first time since his illness interested in the 
deeds of his recent comrades, listened attentively to all 
that his mother had to relate to him. 


264 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


At last, whe-n she had finished, he said: “Then there’s 
no chance of my joining the army again right away?” 

“ No, no,” said Mrs. Gray with a shudder. “ You are too 
weak ; and besides, you are on your parole.” 

“I’m sorry about that part of it.” 

“You need not be. You are really a prisoner yet, only 
not shut in that dreadful sugar house, I am glad to say.” 

“ We’ve been here a long time at Cousin Robert’s, haven’t 
we?” 

“ Yes ; he and his wife have been very kind to us.” 

“Do you know what I would like to do?” 

“No.” 

Mrs. Gray spoke tremblingly, for she was in constant 
fear now that with returning health and strength Alexan- 
der would become restless, and the thought of his obtain- 
ing an exchange and re-entering the army was more than 
she thought she could bear. 

“ I’d like to go out to the place where the Schencks live.” 

“Is that all? Perhaps that can be arranged if you de- 
sire.” 

It w'as not a difficult task to learn that “ the good 
woman,” Samantha, was still living in her home; and 
three days later, after bidding farewell to the friends who 
had been so kind to them in Flatbush, Alexander and his 
mother were carried to the Schenck home. 

“Sakes alive!” exclaimed the delighted Samantha, as 
she welcomed them. “ Who’d a thought I’d ever liyed 
to see this day ? But I’m glad to see ye, I’m glad to see 
ye.” And she shook the young soldier’s hand with a vigor 
that caused his eyes to fill. 


CONCLUSION 


265 


The delighted Samantha at once began to busy herself 
for her guests, and her strong yet gentle hands were ever at 
Alexander’s service. She explained that Israel had at last 
gone with Washington’s army and was now in Philadelphia. 

“And we are here in his home, while he’s in ours,” said 
Alexander. 

“Yes, yes ; an even exchange is no robbery, is it? But 
I’m afear’d some o’ the Tories will come and get ye again, as 
they did afore.” 

“ No danger of that,” said the lad laughingly. “I’ve got 
a paper from Sir William Howe that will protect me, and 
you too, I hope, for you may need help too, before the 
war’s over.” 

“Me? Me? Well, I rather guess not! I’ve got some 
hot water I keep on the stove a purpose for Tories. Me ? 
I guess they won’t bother Israel Schenck’s wife as long as 
she’s got a broom and a kettle o’ hot water 1 Not much 1 ” 

Samantha’s words proved to be true. All winter her 
guests remained with her, and although it was well known 
who they were, they were not once molested. Perhaps the 
knowledge of Sir William’s “paper” may have had some- 
thing to do with their safety, or it may have been the 
stirring deeds which were occurring at the front absorbed 
the interest of the king’s men. At all events, the winter 
came and went, and still Alexander and his mother re- 
mained with Samantha. 

At times they talked of David and the sad death which 
had been his, and their hearts would be heavy ; but Alex- 
ander was still alive and steadily gaining his health, and 
happy in that fact, both his mother and her hostess could 


266 


A PRISONER IN BUFF 


not long be heavy-hearted. Israel sent word occasionally 
of his welfare and the doings of the army, and the coming 
of his letters was always a great event in the household. 

All unknown to Samantha, Mrs. Gray had purchased the 
farm adjoining and transferred it to her friend, but “the 
good woman” was in ignorance of the action at the time, 
and fearful of what she might say or do, Mrs. Gray did not 
refer to her gift until after the close of the war. 

With the return of spring a growing restlessness became 
manifest in Alexander, who was entirely recovered now. 
For a time his mother tried to conceal the knowledge even 
from herself ; but at last that could no longer be done, and 
one morning the lad expressed his determination to arrange 
for his exchange and go back to the army. 

To his surprise, his mother yielded quietly, though he 
never knew what the struggle had cost her. Indeed, it is 
doubtful whether in all that struggle the greater heroism 
was displayed upon the field or by the brave-hearted women 
who saw their husbands and sons go forth to the conflict, 
and in loneliness endured the terrible suspense which 
followed. The home, as well as the field, is the battle- 
ground of heroes. In every war it is so. 

We cannot bring our story to a close, however, without 
referring to one event which occurred before the young sol- 
dier was in the ranks again. It was a dinner given by John 
Hancock and his gentle wife, Dorothy, and among the 
guests were Mrs. Gray and her son Alexander. 

No one ever knew of the misgivings with which Mrs. 
Gray had accepted the invitation ; but while she feared to 
go she feared more to decline. 


CONCLUSION 


267 


However, John Hancock treated her with marked defer- 
ence, and his only reference to that sad interview she had 
had with him was when they had risen from the table and 
were leaving the dining room together. 

“If the Colonies succeed in establishing their independ- 
ence,” he said to her with a smile, “it will be due in no 
small measure to the spirit of our women. They dare defy 
not only King George on his throne, but their own natural 
rulers as well.” 

“Do you know whereof you speak?” inquired Mrs. 
Gray, her eyes glistening as she spoke. 

“ Indeed I do. Even the widows and the fatherless share 
in the spirit.” 

“There is a special providence watching over them,” re- 
plied Mrs. Gray gently ; and then she turned, and with 
“King” Hancock by her side, joined the company in the 
room where Mistress Dorothy Quincy Hancock was waiting 
for them. 




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